Tears of Life
by Davy Jones Locker
Summary: The Perfect Soldier is found near death on the street bench. Now, stuck in an orphanage, many questions arise. Right and wrong, today and tomorrow, hatred, friendship, and sanity. R for scenes of violence. DISCONTINUED
1. Lost

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Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. I do not own Heero (unfortunately). I'm not making any money off this (no matter how much I want it). I'm writing this out of boredom, a wish to express a vague opinion I haven't figured out yet and a desire to write… because… I like to play with my thesaurus. 

Notes: Except for Heero all the characters in this so far are mine so if you wish to use them you must ask! I will know if you don't. I have a personal House Gremlin assistant. This is a Non Yaoi fic. I will try to update often but it'll probably be a week or two at least between them. Enjoy.

Tears of life

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Chapter One

(Lost)

It was cold. The wind whipped through the gaily-lighted streets, swinging garlands and ringing bells as it pierced through a boy's all to thin denim jacket. He stood on a darkened street corner, where one of the lampposts bulbs had gone out, not even bothering to shiver as the freezing wind blew threw his unkempt hair. He stared blankly at the people rushing to and fro. Swinging packages and calling out to each other, or chasing stray children; and he stood still as stone, watching. Then, slowly he turned and started walking, moving like a wraith he slipped between the crowds unnoticed. With an almost unnatural grace he wove through the shoppers and bystanders, without a sleeve brushing a single one. 

He stopped outside a display window showing the wares of the pastry shop, steaming pies, loaves of freshly baked bread and croissants looked back at him. A small cloud of breath escaped his mouth, fogging the window. When had he last eaten? He couldn't remember. 

Turning his back on the window he continued on. Couldn't remember when he'd eaten, that couldn't be good, when had he last slept? It was cold, but he wasn't bothered by the cold, he'd been through worse, yes, much worse. Memories, war, death, madness, screams, fire, hunger in the masses. Black bodies burnt to a crisp, hardly recognizable as human; and the smell… oh that horrible smell! He shuddered and clutched himself. It must be the cold, yes that was what had made him quake. It was over now. There were no more missions, no more dying ally's, no more war. Over, it was over! 

A whispered sigh escaped his lips, forming a tiny serpent in the air for half a second before fading, fading like him. Another frigid wind flew by, this one carrying snow with it, and bringing ice to the few luke warm parts of his body. He felt old, so old and tired. Tired of life and tired of death. 

Snow was falling more quickly now piling up on his shoulders and soaking his head, but he continued walking, dragging his leaden feet through the swiftly mounting drifts, not bothering to brush away what landed on his already soaking back. He felt empty. Never caring, even when he pulled the trigger, just adding another statistic to the constantly mounting numbers of those who came before. He couldn't care, caring was bad… and dangerous. How had he become so old so quickly? He was only…in his teens.

He watched in silence as the last few loafers hurried home for the night, night? He looked up sharply, suddenly aware. When had it become night? It was colder now, the lights were out, those strange multi colored lights that seemed to be hanging every where. He lifted his face to the sky, tilting his head all the way back, trying to see past the tops of buildings that seemed to reach the heavens. Here and there he could glimpse a few patches of stars between the towering walls. Their light was dimmed by the city, but they where still there. He cocked his head to get a different view. Pin holes, from here they looked like pinholes in space. With the towers brushing against them like twisted fingers of metal. Maybe if he climbed on top of a tower he could touch them.

Another gust of wind and ice slammed into his back making him stumble in the building drifts. He lost sight of the stars. Another blow came from the side before he could steady himself, and suddenly he was awake. He swung around reaching to grab the metal pipe before it could strike again. He stared coldly into the eyes of the man attempting to bring it down on his head. A simple twist and the pipe belonged to him. Immediately calculating the presence and distance of his other three attackers, he waited. 

The one in front growled, angry at having his toy taken away, and with a yell he charged. Predicted mistake number one. Fifteen seconds later four large dirty men lay dead in the snow. Three with snapped necks and one with a switchblade through his eye. And in the middle he stood staring at his hands. He had only meant to disable, Damn, they were dead with no effort, just, just a reflex… Bending down he wiped his hands in the snow and dispassionately searched the bodies. Stuffing four dollars and thirty-seven cents in his pockets he dragged the bodies into an alley and arranged them just so. A gang fight ending in four unfortunate deaths. Then he set off across the street unconsciously wrapping his useless jacket tighter about himself. 

The cold was becoming an impediment to his movement, his limbs were getting heavy, and he was tired, almost dead on his feet… dead, like those men, and thousands before them, he felt like a dried out corpse inside. He glared at his soaked and frozen feet shuffling along through the slush, why wouldn't his body simply cooperate and follow his soul into death! 

He tripped on the curb, falling to his knees in a small hill of snow in the street. He slumped, his head hanging limply, his bare fingers slowly forming into fists in the crushed ice. Painstakingly slowly he picked himself up and stumbled on, the wind blowing through the rapidly increasing number of holes in his clothing. He stopped for a moment to lean against a tree growing from a small square of ground in the cement. Squinting through ice encrusted lashes, he spied a bench not far away. He could rest there, just for a bit, tripping and skidding across the frosted ground he made his way to the bench, almost falling on it at the end. Laying his head down slowly, he shut his eyes, so tired; maybe now it would end.

~~~~~

Gerry Michtel sat in the driver's seat of his police car warming his hands at the sad excuse for a heater. He shivered as tiny gust of wind came in along with his partner, invading the almost warm car. He glared at the younger black man as he handed him a steaming cup of coffee. His friend just chuckled

"Gerry, I need to remember my camera on these night outings, you look like a mentally unstable Muppet!" Gerry, humphed and sipped greedily at the hot liquid.

"I feel like one too, and don't you go threatening _me_ with a Polaroid Mr. Deely Boppers and Super Man underwear. I'm sure Sherri would love to see those pictures!" Gerry grumbled as he started the car and pulled out of the gas station. His friend made wounded moans, clutched his chest and eventually started howling like a dog until his partner cracked a smile.

"There see, you're not as much of an old scrooge as you'd like us all to believe. Besides," he said slumping his shoulders "she's already seen them." At that Gerry nearly choked on his coffee, after getting himself under control with many not so helpful pats on the back from his partner, he managed to choke out

"So how is Sherri doing Tony? Not long before the baby comes right?" Tony nodded as they turned a corner.

"We're over half way there, five months pregnant. Deelia's psyched about having a younger sibling to play with. I bet you've never seen a three year old so excited, I think she practically expects it to come out complete with accessories!" Gerry nodded with a grin.

"Well of course why wouldn't it?" 

"How's Anna doing? Still working at that orphanage?"

"Oh yeah, she's been going almost nonstop decorating, shopping and cooking for the kids. Sometimes her mother and I worry, but she loves her job, and the kids." Gerry glared through the windshield, trying to look past the on going wipers and see if there was anything besides glaciers outside. "God damnit, why do I always get the bad nights? This is going to be a full out snowstorm in no time. Nobody should be out in this, least of all me. I hate the cold!" Tony just rolled his eyes while the two cruised along the frozen streets looking for any naughties. 

"So exactly why did you move up from the tropics?"

"My wife"

"Ah." Tony turned and looked out his window, rubbing his hands against the styrophone cup holding his coffee. He glanced back at his red haired friend, then turned back to squinting out his own window. He shivered as the snow pelted against the windows. 

"You know you're right, nobody should be out in this, I'm surprised we haven't been called back yet, maybe… Gerry?" He asked, looking quizzically at his comrade as the car slowed and came to a halt. Gerry held up a hand and pointed ahead, a few feet away was a snow-covered bench with strange bulge in the pile, but Tony couldn't see anything remarkable about it. He turned to ask what they were stopping for, but Gerry was up and out the door. Tony swore and jumped out after his friend. He swore again at the onslaught of freezing ice, and made his way to where Gerry was digging something out of the drift on the bench. He frowned and kneeled next to his friend, sure that he had finally cracked, and then he saw the hand, nearly blue, and hanging limply over the edge of the bench. 

"Aaw, SHIT"! Tony cried, and started helping dig whomever it was out.

"Tony, go get some of the emergency blankets in the back NOW." Tony nodded and was off. By the time he got back dragging a thermal blanket from the trunk Gerry was hustling back carrying something in his arms. The two of them wrapped it in the blanket, and Gerry climbed in the back seat with it, while Tony took the wheal. 

"What've we got, Gerry?" He called as they drove off. 

"A frozen boy!" He snapped, hugging the boy to him for body heat "Hospital Tony now!" Tony nodded and stepped on the gas. He drove with one hand, making his way across bridges and around turns with great dexterity. While with the other hand he turned on the roof lights and tried to call ahead. After a few minutes of fruitless attempts, he yelled and punched the useless vidlink.

"How bad is it?" He asked. Gerry frowned at the limp form in his arms,

"Not good, how far to the hospital?" Tony shook his head and in an almost cheerful voice replied

"Well, the vid's dead for communication purposes, we were probably recalled awhile ago, and most of the roads are closed due to dangerous driving conditions. Can we fix him up at the station? 'Cause that's about the only place I can go."

"Yes, just hurry." Twelve minutes later, they arrived at the station, Tony covered his partner and his burden from the car to the door, then ran ahead for the nurse. Dodging fellow officers right and left he ran through the building full tilt, not even pausing to return a 'hello' or 'welcome back'. Reaching the nurse's door, he burst in without a single knock, grabbed the man by his vest and hauled him out the door and back the way he came.

"Tony stop! What going on? What happened," the man behind him called Tony tried to explain as they ran, never once letting go of the mans vest. 

"Street bench, snow, frozen kid, broken vidlink!" They met Gerry half way, and the nurse immediately relieved him of the body in the now thoroughly soaked blanket. He lay him on the floor and began checking his vitals. 

"How long was he there?" He asked Gerry who was kneeling beside him. Tony stood with the other officers who had gathered to see what the commotion was about. 

"Don't know," Gerry answered, running a hand threw his hair "we found him buried under a pile of snow on a street bench" he looked at the nurse worriedly, "how bad is he?"

"His vitals are strong, so he probably wasn't there too long, but we need to get him dry and warm," he turned around to look at Tony "you've got a spare set of sweats in your locker right? Go get them, they'll be rather baggy but it's the best we've got," then he turned back to the boy on the ground and carefully picked him up. Tony was already away.

"James, get me some big towels, grab the sweats from Tony and meet me at the bathrooms." He called back to Gerry as he strode away. "You two had better get changed too, according to the weather reports we're going to be snowed in tonight, and put some thermal blankets on that couch by your desks." 

~~~~~

Later, the older of the two partners sat in comfortable everyday clothes at his desk watching the youth sleeping under a pile of blankets on their couch. Gerry leaned back in his big chair, cracking his back with a sigh; he loved this chair. As soon he sat down the cushioning warmed and moved forward to fit perfectly around his body. He leaned back a little further and grinned, letting the spine of the chair spring back and forth. It had been a gift from his wife last year, one he very much appreciated. It was incredibly comfortable, and he no longer had to worry about tipping his chair over backwards! He had needed something like this for the office. Still contemplating the wonders of his new toy he swiveled around and reached for his cup of coffee. Tony came then and sat down on top of his friend's desk with a groan. He rubbed his hands over his face and snatched his friend's coffee out of his hand, taking a long draught. The soft sounds of keyboards and gentle snores came from the multiple desks around the room.

"So, how'd it go," Gerry whispered, looking up at Tony from his dangerously leaning chair.

"I hate making reports," Gerry just chuckled, then quickly became sober when his eyes fell back on the occupant of the couch. In the rush of getting him here he hadn't had time to really look at him. The kid had been stripped, dried and dressed in Tony's old sweats. Now he lay dreaming on Gerry's favorite couch. He was young, and looked extremely small in Tony's baggy sweats, probably smaller than he really was, with messy brown hair falling in his eyes. His features had an ethnic mix, Asian and maybe European. He had a long bruise forming on the side of his face, and was very thin. He looked like he hadn't eaten in quite awhile; Hmmm. Tony sighed behind him

"Jeez, this kid can't be more then sixteen, how'd he get to be on a park bench in the middle of a snowstorm?" Gerry just shook his head and sipped his coffee that he'd taken back from his partner.

"I got a couple of idea's, but I guess we'll just have to wait until he wakes up to ask him."

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	2. Found

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Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer, I don't own Gundam wing or any characters, places or things there in. I'm writing this for fun so please don't sue me! And I would prefer nobody use my original characters.

Notes: All right, I admit I am a bit late in updating, but I'm hoping you'll all be gracious and forgive me! ^_^ I'm trying to write a chapter for every one I update and since I'm incredibly slow…… Oh, I'm sorry about how weird my paragraphs look but when ever I convert it to html half of them are on the side and the other half are indented, and since I can't figure out how to indent just the first line html I have to do it the other way.

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Chapter Two

(Found)

He was warm. That was the first thing he noticed when he awoke from the black abyss in which he slept. Keeping his breathing and heart rate slow and even while his senses quickly came alive. Waking this way was simply second nature to him he'd been doing it so long. Keeping his eyes shut he studied his surroundings. He was lying on his side under several humming blankets, electric thermals. His head was cushioned against a small pillow and the surface beneath him was soft. Shifting his position ever so slightly, he encountered resistance behind his back, ah, a sofa then. The quiet sounds of whispers, snores and typing said that he was in a large room and not alone, but above all, he noticed the warmth. He hadn't felt warm in so long, how had he gotten warm? The last thing available to memory was cold and ice. He had been found obviously… hmmm, he was so tired, why did he wake up? He'd wanted to sleep for eternity.

There was nothing to wake up to; all that awaited him was ice, black ice. He'd played their game and he was tired of dancing, no he would not wake. The only thing to have woken him in the first place was this strange warmth, but that could not hold him, nothing would hold him anymore. Slowly he began to fade away, thoughts evaporating like wisps of steam. His breathing slowed to nothing, his pulse stopped. Suddenly he was jerked back. No… something was touching him, on his shoulder. Quick as lightning he grabbed the offending thing and held it away from him. Purposefully opening his eyes he glared at the man leaning over him.

Gerry crouched on his heals and grinned at the youth lying on the couch.

"Knew you were faking, parents instinct," he whispered. His grin faltered as he locked gazes with the boy in front of him. This kids eyes were the deepest, darkest blue he'd ever seen, and so blank. Gazing down he found he couldn't look long into that lifeless stare. Shifting his gaze away he discovered he was losing circulation in the hand he'd laid on the youth's shoulder. 

"Hey," he asked, wiggling his fingers "would you mind letting my hand go," the vice like grip loosened in answer and he pulled his aching hand back, the kid definitely had strength. Gerry leaned back on his heals and slowly reached his other hand to the table next to the couch, retrieving some papers and a pen. Then he moved back and sat on the coffee table just in front of the sofa facing the boy. The kid's eyes followed his every move, and regarded him coldly as he held up his hands in a gesture of peace.

"Hey it's okay, nobody's gonna hurt you," Gerry said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice, the boy didn't move.

He continued to stare at the red haired man in front of him as the fellow cleared his throat and called over his shoulder to a black man passing by to check the weather again. His mind immediately sizing the two of them up as potential threats and storing the information away. Now that his eyes were open he took a quick survey of the room. It was a police station with desks and boards with case notices tacked on. Few people were moving about, most appeared to be either sleeping or sipping coffee. He turned his gaze back to Red as he scratched at an incoming beard and introduced himself, never looking in his eyes longer then a confirming glance.

"I'm Gerry Mitchel, my partner and I found you under a pile of snow on a street bench several hours ago, you were nearly frozen," yes, this was already known. He simply stared at him from his position on the sofa. The police officer shifted uncomfortably under his silent scrutiny. Gerry tapped the pen against the paper in his hand and pushed on.

"Look, we need to get some things sorted out and then you can go home in the morning, what's your name son?" Name?

"I have none," Gerry raised an eyebrow and gave him a look. It was true, he had no name, he'd had code names, a different one for each mission. Orion, Heero, Dayvan, Odin, Janus, but a not a permanent one, not one that was _his_. He mentally beat himself. Idiot, you should have just made one up, this will make them suspicious! It was too late, Gerry, had started talking again.

"Okay, do you have a home?"

"No," no he had no home.

"Do you have a family, someone who takes care of you?" Family, he didn't know that word, he had heard others use it, but no matter how many times he heard it he could never remember what it meant. He would have to look it up again. Some who took care of him? An interesting concept, he thought with a smirk.

"No"

"How old are you?" 

"I don't know," another look. Gerry ran a hand through his hair and sighed, he glanced at him yet again and stood up.

"Alright," Gerry said in a low voice " stay there, try to get some more sleep, I'll be back in a bit with some food for you, we're snowed in so it'll be awhile before any of us can leave." He stared at the man as he headed off through the crowd of desks and sleepers occupying the room, moving towards a door at the far end. Then he closed his eyes and sunk back into the warmth that had brought him back.

~~~~~

Gerry walked through the maze of desks, until he reached the captain's door. All the while feeling the boys cold eyes boring into the back of his neck. He walked through the door with out even knocking, and slammed it behind him shaking the captain out of a light dose. He slumped into a chair in front of his desk and ran both hands threw his hair. The captain looked across at him sleepily. 

"You know Gerry, my Grandmother used to say that if you kept doing that it'd make you go bald," 

Gerry snorted. "Going bald is the least of my troubles at the moment," the captain woke up slightly.

"What's up?" he asked. Gerry groaned and slumped farther down in his chair.

"Sleeping beauty just woke up"

"The kid you brought in?" the captain asked. Gerry nodded. "well, what's the problem?"

"Oh, it's not really a problem just," Gerry sighed "judging from how we found him, the condition of his clothes, and what he just told me. He's a street kid, no home, no parents." The captain nodded. 

"You know what we have to do then," Gerry bit his lip, and tapped his foot against the wooden desk in front of him.

"Yeah, I'll call Anna when the sun comes up, I know she's got room." He glanced back at the door behind him. "I don't know though, there's something different about this kid," the captain just shook his head

"The wars were hard on everybody, most of all the homeless, and a lot of people became homeless because of the wars," Gerry nodded, but continued to frown at the door.

~~~~~

Gerry sat at his desk impatiently drumming his fingers and watching the clock. It had stopped snowing and Tony said that people were being sent out to clear the roads. Another minute ticked by, and at exactly seven am, just as the sun was coming up, Gerry pulled over his desk vid link, and dialed up his eldest. After a few moments of ringing a frazzled and groggy looking thirty-three year old red head appeared on the screen. She scowled up at him in her Chili Pepper bathrobe with her hair falling out of a messy ponytail. In the background he could see numerous pieces of wrapping materials littered about. He smiled as she placed both hands on either side of the vid link and growled at him. 

"Dad, it is seven in the morning, the sun isn't even up properly and I haven't had breakfast, what the hell do you want?" He chuckled, and rubbed the circles he was sure were forming under his eyes.

"Good morning and happy holidays to you too, sweetie." Anna merely scowled at him. "Alright, alright," he said, "You're going to be having a new addition to your holiday madness." She frowned and grabbed a chair from behind.

"What happened."

"Tony and I found him last night on patrol buried under a snowdrift on a street bench. We got him dry and warm and he's okay, but he's a street kid. No family, no home, he doesn't even have a name." Anna frowned.

"Hmm, really," 

Gerry cocked his head "What?"

"Well, it's just kind of unusual. Most children who grow up on the streets either receive names from other kids, or pick one out themselves. How old is he?"

"He doesn't know, but he looks about sixteen, maybe a little older," Anna sighed, and started to redo her pony tale

"You know that at that age he's got about zero chance of being adopted. Everybody wants babies," He nodded.

"Yeah, but we can't just throw him out on the street again."

"I didn't say that, but he's probably got a good idea of his chances at an orphanage. By that age they usually figure, they've survived this long on the streets, they have a better chance to make it on their own. You may have some trouble convincing him to cooperate."

"Hrrm, that's not all we may have trouble with," he grumbled into his stubble. Anna stopped and looked at him, hard.

"What do you mean?" 

Gerry shrugged, "Just a feeling I got from him." he shook his head and looked his daughter straight in the eye "I'm familiar with street kids, gangs, police veterans and even a few soldiers. But I've never seen eyes that cold and dead." Suddenly Gerry felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, a sliver of cold raced down his spine, and on the screen Anna nodded.

"Noted, I'll be by as soon I'm awake to pick him up."

"Uh, you may have to wait until they clear the roads, we had a freak storm last night and we all got snowed in."

"Oh, and I thought you were just working late!" She said with a grin, and Gerry shook his finger at her.

"By honey."

"Bye, Dad." He shut down the link and leaned back, cracking his neck, then swiveled around in his form-fitting chair and looked back at the boy staring at him from the couch. With a sigh he reached into his left-hand drawer and pulled out several snacks he'd gotten from the vending machine, along with the kid's old clothes. He got up and made his way over to the silent youth sitting on his sofa. With a long suffering groan he sat back down on the coffee table, pushing various items out of the way, and handed the junk food and clothes to the nameless kid across from him. The boy took the chips and candy and began to mechanically shove it down his mouth. Gerry watched this strange child while he concentrated on the food, not even seeming to taste it, much less care about what he was eating.

"We're going to have to send you to an orphanage," he said, the boy didn't look up. Gerry shifted his weight on the flimsy table. "It's not exactly a seaside estate with family and servants, but at least you'll have a free roof over your head and food on your plate. Plus you'll get to go to school," he pointed out. The boy didn't speak, or even acknowledge his presence. Gerry nodded and hung his head, then got up to leave "ah, someone will be by to pick you up in a bit, and Tony said you can keep the sweats." He watched him for a minute more before turning and shuffling back to his desk, leaving the boy to whatever thoughts he had. 

~~~~~

He was in fact thinking out a plan. He would not stay at the orphanage; such a place was not for him. He was not looking for a seaside estate, if he had been he would have stayed in one of Quatre's many empty homes. School was out of the question as well, he had been required to attend several during different missions, but that was simply cover, he already knew everything they taught. He tucked his stockinged feet under the heated blanket and chewed on a brown bar filled with nuts and caramel. No, he could not be around people; he only brought about their destruction. War torn fields stripped of any green, bodies littering the ground like fallen leaves; ashes falling like snow flakes. Damn, he was fading again. It was becoming more and more difficult to stay awake recently. His thoughts tumbled over themselves haphazardly falling here and there. He mentally shook himself and focussed. He wondered if he shook his thoughts enough, if they might fall together correctly like ice cubes in a tray. 

It would be impractical to do anything now. There were too many trained officers to attempt escape here, and he didn't want to kill them all. It would be difficult to disappear again if he was being hunted for the death of a dozen officers. He would go quietly with whomever had been sent to retrieve him, and wait. A few days later, after interests had cooled, he would leave, using the days he was there to check out security of the place. Though he doubted there would be much, if any. Finishing off the last of the snacks he lay back down, studying the ceiling. 

He was so tired; he always felt tired now, like an old old man his limbs ached with weariness and cold from the black ice inside. Reaching up, he gently felt his brow and cheek bone where they had turned black and blue. He closed his eyes; those four men probably wouldn't be found for a day or so and would doubtfully be recognizable as anyone when they were. Mentally counting off he added four to the list, keeping track of every one, starting with the first. With sundress and golden hair, a puppy in one hand and tiny flower held out in the other, his first he would remember forever. 

~~~~~

Anna arrived as soon as she could, it had taken awhile for the roads to be cleared enough for driving but she was here. Rubbing her gloved hands together she hurried up the steps and through the front doors. Shrugging off her scarf and jacket she returned a few greetings and walked towards her father's desk. She smiled softly to herself, looking down at the sleeping man. One side of his face was pressed against his desktop, covering various papers, pamphlets and notes. She giggled quietly when a snort escaped him and he huffed in his sleep. An evil smile played across her features as she pulled off her gloves and stuck her ice-cold fingers down the back of his shirt. 

"NO, not the monkeys!" he yelled sitting up straight with look of terror and a notepaper stuck to his face. Gerry blinked sleepily at the laughing figure of his daughter. "What?" he asked, Anna simply shook her head and pointed to his cheek. Reaching up he quickly pulled the sticky note off his face and glared at her. "That was not funny Anna," he said in his best 'father-is-very-displeased' voice. Anna smiled fondly at the grumpy old man; the children at the orphanage liked to call him 'The Curmudgeon', and he certainly was. 

"It's not my fault that waking you up requires drastic measures."

"It doesn't, you just like to be cruel." He said rubbing his back where her fingers had been moments earlier. Anna's grin became serious remembering why she was here; this was not a pleasure visit. Gerry noticed his girl's playful smile slip and become solemn. He nodded and got up, heading over to the sofa. Anna followed her fathers gaze to the well-loved couch across from his desk. Remaining where she was she looked over the boy sadly. 

The poor thing looked like he was about to just give up and die on them right then and there. She watched as her father roused the kid and managed to get him up. All the while her entire attention was riveted on the boy as he stood. He had a certain bearing about him, a dangerous presence that, coupled with the look (or rather lack there of) in his eyes, raised goose bumps on her flesh. Anna quickly looked away, unable to keep eye contact any longer, something was very wrong in there. Recovering herself, she surveyed the rest of him. He was small, and with out the multiple layers of dirt she knew had been there before the nurse cleaned him up, he was quite hansom for a boy his age. He was wearing Tony's old sweats, which were quite a bit big for him. The elastic and string helped to keep the pants on his hips, but the shirt looked as if it were about to fall off. The neckline hung well off his right shoulder and the giant sleeves swallowed his arms. Under his arm he carried a torn jacket and his old clothes, Anna held out her hand when he reached her.

"Hi," she said, making her voice gentle and non-threatening. He made no move to take her hand just continued to glare, unblinking. Anna slowly withdrew her hand, and handed him the extra jacket she'd brought. After he shrugged it on, she said 

"Come on," reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder. Before she could touch him he stepped out of her grasp and walked towards the door in one fluid movement, avoiding contact as if he were no more then air and never saying a word. Anna frowned, okay then, no touching; she shook her head and hurried to catch up with him. 

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	3. New Boy

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam wing. I do not own the character Heero Yuy. I am writing this for fun simply because an insane Imp must find something to do with the time she is not putting soap on the stairs.

Notes: Alright, I didn't do nearly as much research o n Orphanages as I should have. So if I'm a little off (most likely way off) I apologize to anyone who might be offended, and don't look to me with questions because I am definitely no expert on how these places are run. Also just as a quick note, I do not like swearing in general and I try to only put it in where I think it fits and when it is needed. I imagine that gangs do a lot of swearing so in an effort to be true to their characters I've put in some nasty language. I don't know the full extent of street slang, I'm not fluent so I'm making mine up. Skip it if you are offended. Nobody is forcing you to read this so don't get on my case about it. You all can tell I feel grumpy right now can't ya…

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Chapter Three

(New Boy)

The board creaked loudly under a stockinged foot and the tiny figure froze in the middle of the hallway. Hugging her stuffed fish closer to her she squeezed her eyes shut and waited a moment for her doom to fall. But nothing happened, she cracked one eye open and peeked down the hall. Nothing was there and all was quiet, the tiny figure grinned and continued to sneak down the passage. 

Anna had come back that morning with a new person, he'd been asleep and Anna had put him to bed. Anna had said to leave him alone and not to go up there for awhile. But everybody down stairs was being noisy, and she wanted to meet him! 

Checking both ways once again to make sure there was nobody to snitch on her, the small silhouette stopped outside one of the many doors in the long hall. Reaching up she grinned triumphantly, quietly turned the knob with sticky child fingers and peeked through the door. The light from the hallway flooded the darkened room and landed squarely on the person sleeping on one of the beds. The little figure paused, nervously sucking on her thumb and hugging her fish. Anna would be mad, but… she left the half thought uncompleted and wandered forward forgetting the possible consequences. She crawled up onto the bed, making quite a bit of noise in the process, and sat with her knees forward and legs splayed out to the sides. Still sucking on her thumb, she surveyed the person next to her with the shrewdness of a five-year-old. He didn't look very fun; maybe she should wake him up! Smiling around her thumb she began to bounce on the bed, this didn't have much affect until she accidentally landed on him.

~~~~~

He woke with a start as something heavy landed right on his guts. He was up and had the enemy between his knees with his fist raised before he actually saw what had hit him. He blinked, lowered his fist and blinked again. Going over the past few events, trying to figure out how a five-year-old girl in PJ's, pigtails and stuffed fish had ended up between his knees. There was a whimper from under him and he realized he was probably crushing her. He hastily scrambled off her and backed up to the edge of the bed, hitting his back against the wall, not wanting to hurt her further. He watched as she rolled over and sat up staring at him with wide frightened, hazel eyes. Then unexpectedly her face turned from fright to anger, and she soundly swatted him on the knees with her fish. 

"Whatcha you do that for!" she whined loudly, sitting back with a pout and sticking her thumb back in her mouth. He simply stared at the sulking child across from him and gently touched his knee where she'd hit him, quite unsure what to do at this point. He thought about checking to see if she was hurt, but he didn't dare touch her, so they sat and stared at each other. She looked so much like, _her_, same eyes, golden hair and innocent face, it was unsettling, they could've been twins. 

She quickly grew bored with glaring at him though, and crawled forward until she had plopped herself onto his lap, which she thought, was surprisingly comfy. He didn't stir while she clambered onto his lap, hardly daring to breathe. He thought he should remove her but he was afraid he'd break her. She was so thin and delicate; he was sure that if he so much as touched her she would chip and shatter into tiny pieces like a porcelain doll. "I'm Caltha, what's your name?" she asked, he didn't move for a very long time and she was beginning to wonder if he heard her and if she should repeat herself much louder when he answered, with barely a whisper

"I don't have one." She shook her head confidently, quiet sure this was impossible.

"But you gotta have a name, everybody's got a name." he shook his head slowly, not every body had a name. He didn't, Trowa had many names as well, and Duo… he closed his eyes, it didn't matter. 

"Two many," he whispered to himself. Caltha thought hard for a moment, with her head to one side to get a better look at him.

"Weeeeeell," she started, drawing the word out thoughtfully. "What's your first name?" silence, Caltha poked his leg to make sure he hadn't gone back to sleep.

"My first name was," he stopped, unsure whether he should utter that name, the name he wore when he killed _her_, especially when her very likeness sat on his lap. That had to be some kind of bad luck. "Odin," he whispered. Caltha smiled broadly and held up her fish

"This is sushi! Sushi this Odin, Odin Sushi" she said waving her hands through the introduction. Then she looked at Odin expectantly, "aren't you gonna say hi?" she demanded. Odin blinked and looked from the girl to the fish, to the girl and back to the fish, and thought that for perhaps the first time he was completely out of his depth. Even when interaction with… the pilots, was required they always had the common ground of war. He rarely understood the other things they talked about, and felt no wish too. Armed and unarmed combat, hacking, assassination, reconnaissance, tactics and sabotage made sense, talking to fish did not, he had not been trained to talk to fish. 

Caltha stifled a yawn, forgetting for the moment that Odin was being impolite to Sushi, she leaned in and hugged his midsection. "You missed dinner" she said matter of factly. Odin thoughts floundered and came to an abrupt halt, crashing into each other like a line of train cars. He closed his eyes and his mind went blank, she was touching him, squeezing him, this was not allowed! Get her off, get her off, get her off! The words screamed themselves through his head like a safety program on red alert. He couldn't move. If he pulled her off he'd break her wrist, GET HER OFF! He felt the arms around him loosen and a loud protest was heard as she was pulled off him. For a moment he remained frozen, then carefully opened his eyes and met the gentle face of the woman who'd brought him here. She was sitting at the opposite end of the bed, giving him space, and holding the little girl in her lap. His breath came easier, when he saw that she wasn't going to be allowed to crawl on him again. 

"Good evening" the woman said with a hint of teasing in her voice. Caltha turned around and whined to her.

"Annaaaaaa, why can't I hug him? Odin's nice!" Anna, that was her name. Anna looked at Caltha for a moment before she answered

"Later Caltha," then she looked back at him, avoiding his eyes. He'd come to expect this of people and didn't think of it anymore.

"Odin? Is that your name?" He didn't bother to answer, letting Caltha do it for him.

"That's his first name!" Anna looked down at the little girl in her lap

"Thank you Caltha, but I was asking Odin,"

"But he doesn't like to talk, he wouldn't even say hi to Sushi!" she pouted, and stuck her thumb back in her mouth. 

"Do you have a last name?" she asked Odin, pressing gently. He looked down at Caltha and she answered quickly, speaking around her thumb. 

"He's got lotsa names!" there was a timid knock at the doorframe, which saved Odin from further questioning. It was a boy, about a year or so younger than him with dark curly hair and olive skin. Anna gestured for him to come in and stood up with Caltha

"Odin, this is Jinx, you'll be sharing this room with him and a few other boys. You'll get the official tour tomorrow, and I'd like to talk with you some more." She smiled "in the mean time I'm sure Jinx can show you how to secretly raid the kitchen in the night" Jinx blushed and mumbled about growing bones. "If you need something ask him, or come look for me" then she turned to the squirming five year old in her arms. "And as for you young lady, you should have been in bed hours ago," Caltha giggled and shook her head

"No! I don't wanna go to bed!"

"Yes, bed," 

"No bed, no bed," she chanted as Anna carried her out the door, glancing back at the two boys. She carried Caltha back to her room, undid her hair, tucked her in and was just about to leave when Caltha suddenly asked

"Anna? Are you mad?" Anna turned back and sat on her bed, stroking her hair.

"No of course not, why would you think that"

"You wouldn't let me hug Odin," Caltha whispered. Anna smiled tenderly

" Oh Caltha, I wasn't mad"

"Then why?" the little girl asked. Anna thought, wondering how to fraise it so she would understand, 

"You were scaring him honey," she said. Caltha thought long and hard about this, and finally said 

"Why?" Anna shook her head

"I don't know yet." 

~~~~~

Jinx stood there nervously shifting from foot to foot, the other kid, Odin, hadn't moved a muscle since Anna had left, he just sat there glaring at him. Jinx nervously cleared his throat, he knew types like this and he didn't want to get on his bad side. But he'd have to say something before the others came up. From down the hall there came the sound of feet. One pair big and heavy, the other lighter with an obvious limp. Too late, he could hear them coming down the hall laughing quietly. They stopped when they got to the door, looking at the two of them in silence for a moment. Then they both burst out laughing, which quickly became quiet shushings and snickers as they came in and sat on their respective beds.

" God Jinx have you even said hello to the guy yet,"

"Hee hee, true to his name Jinx is," Jinx threw the wet towel he'd been carrying at them. He muttered various obscenities under his breath before introducing them. 

"Ah Odin, this is Ethan," he said pointing to his huge friend, Ethan waved and said hi. "And the rat over there is Neon" Neon limped over to his dresser and gave a muffled hello while pulling on an electric blue shirt that said Da Man on it. He ran a hand through his day-glow orange hair, then stopped for a moment and glared at Jinx, 

"I ain't no rat!" he growled and gave Jinx the finger. Ethan quickly stood, all six foot four of him, and changed the subject. 

"Odin, you had any food yet" Jinx watched the other boy shake his head slowly, he wondered if he ever talked. "Well, then Jinx is just the person to lead us on a pre midnight raid" he said "let's go". And all four were out the door. It went well enough Jinx supposed, for a stampeding herd! Neon had the amazing ability to step on every creaking board and pass through every squeaking door available, and Ethan was just big. He did notice that Odin didn't seem to add any noise at all, though by this time it didn't really matter the entire orphanage knew about their late night excursions. They all had a nice second dinner in the kitchen pilfering leftovers and sandwich material. Odin took a huge amount of food for himself, almost as much as Ethan, but he ate it very, very slowly. Probably hasn't had food for a long time, Jinx thought sympathetically, and he's smart enough to know not to gorge. He remembered his own time on the streets quiet clearly, foraging through dumpsters, sometimes pilfering from a snack stand or a restaurant kitchen if he was lucky. He'd seen plenty of kid's die from eating too much too quickly when they had the chance. That was how it had been for him as a war orphan, sleeping in parks and alleyways, until, well until things got better he thought, going back to his sandwich. 

~~~~~

A single flake of snow drifted through the air. The exquisite lacework designs invisible to the human eye, a delicate arabesque of geometrical patterns. It was the last to fall from the violent storm that had swept through the city. The snowflake landed with a little sigh and settled amongst its brethren on the ground next to a hand. A dark, frozen and bloody hand. There was not a sound of warning before a heavy black boot on the little pile of new frost, crushing the snowflake under heel. The boot gave the dead hand an indifferent kick, causing it to flop over palm up, and a surly voice whispered through the pale dawn light. 

"Shit, that's them right enough, didn't come back to the pad the other day." 

"Now we knows why, let's go" another equally callous voice replied.

"What the fuck? Ain't you wanna know who killed 'em?"

"Looks like they killed 'emselves" there was a sound of a long drag, and a cloud of foul smelling smoke filled the air. 

"That's bullshit and you know it! Hellyou're too doped most a the time to care whether or not ya just stepped in a MD's crap" there was a long pause while neither spoke, only the steady sound of cigarette puffs were to be heard. Eventually the second voice said

"But MD's don't crap"

"Shut the hell up and help me figure this out!" 

"Well fuck it, what do ya want me to do?" the butt of a cigarette fell into the snow and sank with a hiss, quickly accompanied by the sound of another being lit. 

"This ain't the whole team,"

"So." 

"So, dumb ass, the last guy probably saw the mother fuckerwho done 'em in,"

"Lemme guess, you know who that was,"

"Damn straight!"

"So, what do ya want?" someone kneeled down by the crimson hand. A brown-gloved hand with the word 'pain' dyed on reached out slowly. It shook slightly as it pulled out a switchblade from the dead mans eye. 

"Compensation for our bro's here, ain't nobody gets away with this!" the kneeling shadow wiped his friends' blood off the knife before pocketing it and walking out of the alley with the other, leaving behind the four prearranged bodies. 

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	4. Getting to Know You

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam wing or any of the characters, places, ideas and things there in. I'm writing this for fun and make no profit.

Notes: I was so happy that I got some reviews and people e-mailing I decided to put up the next chapter sooner then expected. See I can write when I put my mind to it. Ummm, no big notes for this chapter, except if any of you are wondering about the name Caltha (your probably not but I like to amuse myself). It is a real name, I forget the origin but it means yellow flower.

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Chapter Four

(Getting to Know You)

Odin unfortunately had to extend his stay longer then he expected. The officer that had found him came to the orphanage often to visit his daughter and the kids, and every time he would ask about him. Anna was just as persistent about his apparent welfare and the kids were unendingly curious and sociable, wanting to help him 'settle in'. Interests were far from cooling off. So, Odin explored, he looked into every inch of the surrounding territory. He committed the entire layout to memory, searched the grounds and looked through each room, cupboard and crawly place until there wasn't a single plant, corner or dust ball he didn't know. 

Likewise there wasn't a face he didn't recognize, or come to have information on, and he began to have certain expectations of certain people. Neon had a noticeable limp and always wore loud colors with no sense of what went with what. When he was not dashing off in a hurry (despite the limp) to what ever he was currently late for, he wrote music. All of which was strange and supposedly hidden. The red haired girl on the second floor always had her note pad and pen. Ethan was responsible, protective and spent his spare time playing hockey, he wasn't bad. Anna was not only administrator but was also in charge of the kids on her floor, she was also protective. The little boy with chipmunk cheeks was always lost. Jinx was shy and always in trouble, but was light on his feet and hard to catch. And Caltha was… adherent. 

Since the first day she wouldn't leave him alone and followed him everywhere, chatting about this and that, asking why the sky was blue and if he liked chocolate or vanilla better, not that he'd ever had much chance to decide. Every day after school she would immediately come looking for him and not leave his side, unless he could distract her attention and slip off unnoticed. However, she caught on very quickly and it was becoming harder to get away with it. 

With all the children around, there was a steady sound of running feet defying the constant warnings from the adults to slow down. It was difficult to find someplace quiet, even in this immense building. The orphanage itself had once been an affluent boarding school before the war. But the accidental collision of a mobile suit with the most of the classrooms and gym had made the place unsuitable to the previous owners, since no one had enough money to fix it. So it was donated to a charity organization that in turn gave it to the orphanage as a permanent home. Despite the damage, the rest of the place was well intact and in remarkably good condition. The student suites had been turned into rooms for the children and could comfortably fit three or four. The living areas were all on the first floor for convenience. The Lounge was the general meeting and recreation zone and always had somebody lolling around. 

Strangely enough however Odin found his sanctuary in what some jokingly called the great hall, the giant entryway to the building. The domed ceiling reached the fourth story and the floor spanned a good thirty to forty meters across. A large pair of double doors with a smaller door built in graced the front wall. The back wall had two great staircases on either side going up to the second floor. A small balcony looked over the entryway and opened into a wide hall at the rear leading back into the building. From here he could watch the whole parade of people coming and going. People quickly learned to leave him be and that this spot on the railing was not to be touched. At the moment though, Odin was researching in the library. There wasn't much else to do. There wasn't any point in putting him in school now, Anna had said. It was close to winter break and they were all having final tests. He would have to have an assessment for placement at the beginning of spring. So with most everybody gone and the place to himself, he studied. 

"Family, the collective body of persons who live in one house. A father, mother, and their children. The children of the same parents. One's husband (or wife) and children. A group of people who are related by blood or marriage; relatives. Those who descend from one common progenitor; a tribe or race. Descendents; lineage. A collection or union of things having common source or similar features. A criminal syndicate under a single leader. A commune living in one household, especially under one head. In biology, a subdivision in the classification of plants or animals, ranking above a genus and below an order."

Odin looked down at the data pad in his lap. He scrolled back to the top of the screen and read the explanation again. Then he shut off the data pad and took out the glowing dictionary chip. He leaned back in the armchair and turned his head to the side to watch the falling snow. So that was the definition of family. Basically what he'd assumed. A simple concept really, he couldn't understand why he always had trouble remembering. It was one of those words that always slips the mind, no matter how many times you look it up. He stared down at the pad in his lap, glowered, and placed it on the floor. A simple concept… As simple as hobbling across a desert with one leg. 

He let his head rest against the pane of glass. It was icy cold on his forehead. They were outside, playing in the snow. Everyone seemed to put such importance on having or not having a 'family', he wondered if he should care that he'd never really had one. He watched a few of the tiny creatures outside start to throw balls of snow at each other, not meant to hurt, all in good fun. Others were flailing about in the snowdrifts; they called them snow angels. Some one had started a game. He watched them twirl about in a circle, hands joined laughing and giggling. The rhyme drifted up to him carried by the harmless voices. 

"Ring around the rosie's, pockets full of posy's, ashes, ashes, we all fall down!" And so they did, throwing themselves in the snow with shouts of glee. Sending clouds of ice billowing up through the air only to fall back to earth like so many white ashes. Ashes, ashes we all fall down. Fall down dead, did they even know what they were singing? He thought. No, of course not, why would they? The plague had been a true horror of the time he remembered, thinking back to the random history chip he'd picked out earlier. The Black Death they called it. All over Asia Minor deaths were estimated to be over 23 million. At the peak of the epidemic, Paris lost 800 people a day, and by the end of Paris's long run with the disease, half its population of 100,000 people had died. The data chip had included several gruesome illustrations of bodies. Now that song of death, which people had sung to protect them selves from a horror you couldn't see or fight had become a child's rhyme. Ironic, he thought. No doubt the Eve Wars would likewise fade into limericks. 

His ears picked up the sound of her entering the library immediately. She had a very distinctive walk, but he didn't move or acknowledge her presence in any way. Perhaps if he ignored her she would go away for once. No such luck, Caltha came running up and pounced on him with her usual energy, still wearing her backpack and jacket and dripping snow. 

"Where've you been? I've been looking all over for you!" Odin said nothing, concentrating on calming his heart and pulling his hand away from where he used to keep his gun. She was too fast and lively, she made him jumpy. Since she didn't seem inclined to stay on the ground a good ten feet away, he had managed to convince himself that so long as he didn't move while she was in his lap, he wouldn't hurt her. Even so, it did nothing to silence the alarm in his head. 

The two stared at each other for a long time, fascinated with one another. Her eyes were so bright and full, the exact opposite of him self. It was then that he realized they had gotten into an unofficial staring match, and she wasn't looking away. Intriguing, here was yet another puzzle to unravel. There had been an unending supply of puzzles since he'd been drafted here. Looking at her he analyzed her stare. It wasn't a challenge, which normally was the only time someone would look him in the eye. Rather it was simply a lack of averting her gaze. She wasn't scared of him; but why, he'd certainly given her reason to be afraid of him.

"Did your face get stuck?" she asked. Odin blinked,

"Huh?"

"Anna says that if you keep frowning your face will stick like that." He hadn't been aware that he was frowning.

"… Do I frown a lot?" he asked, with a sudden spike of curiosity. Caltha nodded vigorously

"All the time, is it stuck?" Well he couldn't remember his face ever being different, except for once or twice during the wars, that had been strange.

"I guess so." The two continued to stare at each other throughout the discourse, finally Odin asked

"Why aren't you with the other children?" Caltha shrugged,

"They're too noisy, and they don't like me." He found that an interesting answer since Caltha was the loudest person he'd ever met, including Duo. The rhyme had started again. Odin listened, watching the children through the window. Caltha leaned forward and rested her chin against the arm of the chair, looking out the window. "I like that game" she said, Odin glanced at her sideways before whispering

"To them it's nothing more than that, a game, one of the great lessons of the human race is nothing more then a game. Death would laugh if he saw this." He looked down again to see that she'd stuck her thumb in her mouth and was frowning to herself. She apparently hadn't understood a word. Perhaps it was too complicated a thought for her. She seemed to speak and think very simply. But then, why was he speaking to her in the first place, he shouldn't be, she was a liability. 

"You want to see a picture?" she asked, he didn't have a chance to respond before she began digging through her backpack, and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He hesitantly took it from her and scanned the painting. There were blobs of gray and black and brown, the thing looked vaguely as if it might be an animal but he couldn't tell. 

"What is it?"

"Hee, hee, it's a doggy silly!" he didn't see the resemblance.

"Come on I'm hungry," she said, grabbing his hand and leaping off the chair, pulling him with her. Caltha skipped out of the library and down the hall dragging Odin behind her. She began singing row, row, row your boat and trying to get Odin to join in, which he refused, remaining obstinately silent on their way to the kitchen. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	5. Questions & Answers

+ 

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or any of its characters or references.

Notes: "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts, Dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, there they are all standing in a row, big ones…" I think eating something at this point would be a good idea. Notes, uh, do I have anything to say about this chapter, uh, not really. Oh, I'm sorry to all those wonderful, magnificent, generous and lovely people who reviewed for chapter one, but I've had to replace it for grammar errors and such and I'm sure I'm going to lose my reviews. But if lots of people review for this one I will be very happy indeed!

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Chapter Five 

(Questions and Answers)

Anna was in the kitchen, it was after dinner, and the flock of industrious little cleaners had fled. While helping to cook a meal was one of the most popular chores because you got the choicest cuts, so to speak, cleaning up after a meal was one of the most dreaded. The kids all tried very hard to do as little as possible and at the same time still look useful. Amazingly they always got done in a relatively good amount of time, and as soon as Anna was sure everything was as spotless as it could get, there was an immediate mass bolt for the door. It was rather amusing really, a lot of these kids had barely managed to scrape by on their own, they knew disease, malnutrition, humiliation, neglect and violence personally. Yet it seemed they considered nothing worse then doing the dishes. Anna heaved a sigh and sat herself behind the counter rubbing her face with her hands, which of course were now freezing. She didn't know if she had poor circulation or if she was just weird, but the only time her hands were warm was when she put them under hot water; even in the heat of summer they were ice cold. It was well known throughout the orphanage that those who refused to get out of bed would suffer the terrible fate of the Frost Fingers. She studied her short nails, perhaps she should consider getting permanent gloves.

"Anna?" She turned around in her seat and smiled at Caltha who was looking at her questioningly. She motioned for her come over, and helped her climb into the seat next to her. 

"And what can I do for you?" She asked with a smile. Caltha wiggled in her seat and focused on the ever-present Sushi in her arms. 

"Umm, I got a question," she said and pouted her lips, still looking at the stuffed fish. Anna watched her patiently. Caltha was an unusual child, she was very sensitive, and it was apparent to anyone who watched her play that she was also very smart. It wasn't unusual for Caltha to approach her with a question and fumble with how to say it. Often she didn't know what she was asking, but wanted to know the answer anyway. So Anna waited, letting her try and fraise whatever it was into a question. "Umm, Odin's… he… Why…mhhhmmmm, Odin doesn't like it when I jump on him." Now it was Anna's turn to have some difficulty. She had to pick apart the question and be very literal, if she took the first question at face value it usually led to something else. So, Odin didn't like when she sat on him, no, wait, that wasn't what she said.

"You mean he doesn't like you to sit on him?" Caltha shook her head

"Uh-uh, he doesn't mind that, he doesn't like it when I jump on him." Anna put her elbows on the counter and curled her hands under her chin, thinking. She still knew next to nothing about the strange boy, as far as she new he had yet to speak a word to anyone other then Caltha. She watched him from the corners of her eyes, observing how he acted and reacted, trying to find even the tiniest clue that would tell her something about him. For the most part he seemed not to care about anything. He went through the daily motions of staying alive with a mechanical kind of detachment. He kept to himself, rebuffing all attempts of friendship or compassion, as if such things were unimportant… or perhaps, incomprehensible? The only thing that seemed to effect him in the slightest was Caltha. He seemed to not quite know what to do with her, and every once in awhile, just for a second or two, he looked so very sad. She would watch his eyes fill with a nameless grief, the loss of something precious, and feel her heart wrench in sympathy. But as suddenly as it appeared the look would be gone, and he would be back to his indifferent self. But now she was getting off track.

Hmmmm, he was definitely jumpy, almost to the point of being skittish. He had the attitude of one, who knew violence intimately. He could have been beaten, or he might have been a soldier, even as young as he was it was possible. Towards the end of the wars the armies had been running low on bodies. So the requirement age went down, and down and down, until they were drafting children. It made sense, she thought. She'd never seen him play. He was wary around other people, children especially. He didn't like abrupt movements or sudden loud noises. That could very well be it, but how to explain something like Shellshock to Caltha. 

"Well, Caltha, you're quite the hyper one" she said tickling the little girls toes. Caltha gave a tiny squeal and hid her feet. "I think your being so fast makes him a little nervous."

"Why," she asked. Anna thought for a moment,

"Well, do you remember when Bobby kept jumping out at you and saying 'boo' when you turned a corner?" Caltha stuck out her lower lip, still unhappy about the recurring incident. "And after awhile you started checking around corners to see if he was there?"

"Yeah, but that was smart," she said.

"Yes it was, that was very smart! So you learned to be careful so you wouldn't get scared, right?"

"Uh-huh," 

"Well, I think Odin learned the same thing, he learned to be careful so bad things wouldn't happen to him. Now nothing bad is going to happen, but he still thinks someone is around the corner, waiting to get him." She reached over and tucked a stray hair behind Caltha's ear. "It's a reflex, do you understand?" Caltha bit her lip and studied Sushi,

"I guess so." The two sat silently for moment each in their own thoughts, until Caltha said, "can I have a cookie?" Anna crossed her arms tried to frown. 

"No Caltha, if I remember you had at least three fortune cookies after dinner, that's quite enough"

"Please?"

"No."

"Aaaaaaw, pleeeeeaaaaase Anna, pleeeeeeaaaaase?" Anna shook her head, the edges of her mouth tweaking up and threatening to turn her frown (which wasn't very convincing in the first place) into an all out grin. Unfortunately, Caltha saw this as a sign of encouragement and her plea's got all the louder. Finally Anna said very sternly

"You can ask all night and the answer won't change, however," she said, and walked to one of the pantries. "If you'd like a prune," She didn't have chance to pull it out before Caltha gave a,

"EEEEUUUUUW," and fled. Anna let the grin spread across her face before returning to the pantry and pulling out the box of tea packets. She set them on the counter, grabbed the teakettle and filled it with water. She put the kettle on the counter and pushed the on button, making sure to turn on the kettle's timer. This way the kettle would beep when it was hot enough and they wouldn't have another incident of the water completely evaporating and the kettle burning itself out, which had smelled positively awful. She reached to get herself a mug, her favorite one that said 'smile, it makes people wonder' and began humming to her self. It was a song from one of those very old animated movies that the younger kids liked so much. She giggled to her self, well, I guess when you start getting songs about dancing bobbins stuck in your head, you should take it as sign of something. She turned around and nearly dropped her cup. 

Odin was sitting calmly in her seat, feet curled around the legs of the stool and leaning forward on his elbows against the counter top. His face was turned in her direction and he watched her in silence, his stare deep and steady from under his bangs. Anna fumbled with the mug, trying not to drop it in her surprise. He hadn't made a sound when he came in, no sneaker squeaks on the tile, no scraping of a moving stool, nothing. It was creepy how he just appeared that way. When she'd regained control of her rebellious cup, she shook her head and set it on the counter, calming her beating heart and seating herself opposite from her unexpected visitor. Odin's gaze followed her as she moved.

"Do you need something Odin?" she asked, not really expecting an answer at this point, but she felt she had to ask. There was silence. Odin inclined his head slightly to read her mug, then looked at her with a blank expression. Anna smiled and shrugged. She looked away to search through the tea box when he surprised her for the second time that night, and spoke.

"How do you do that?" He asked. Anna looked up with a tiny gasp. He talked, he said something! His voice was a surprise as well. He was so small that she hadn't expected his voice to be that deep. But, now that she heard it, it seemed to suit him.

"Uh, do what?" she asked, confused about what he wanted to know.

"How do you make her understand what you say?" Anna blinked, was he talking about Caltha? Had he been here that long?

"You mean Caltha?" he nodded. "Well," she said, thinking, while picking out a lemon tea packet "for complicated things you have to bring it down to her level, tea?" Odin hesitated, then nodded and picked out a mint tea.

"How?" he asked simply. Anna got up and retrieved a second mug from the cupboard; this one had pictures of old galleons all over it. 

"You haven't had much experience with little kids have you," she stated and gave him the mug. There was an indecisive pause before he shook his head. "They don't think like us yet, their minds are still growing so there are a lot of concepts they just don't understand. Things are simple in their world. If you tried to tell them about something as involved, as, oh, Hamlet for instance, most would lose interest because they wouldn't understand. Do you see?" He nodded again and the kettle began to beep. Anna stood, turned off the kettle which was glowing with heat beneath it's protective covering and poured the hot water into both mugs. After setting the kettle back on the counter, she began dunking her tea bag and continued. "So a lot of the time when you're talking to young children you have to bring what you're saying down to their level. That doesn't mean you baby talk them though. Just simplify it and try to associate it with something they know. Caltha's five now and she's just beginning to understand the concept of death. That once a dying person goes to 'sleep' they never wake up, ever." 

"Are they satisfied with your answers?" Odin said, sipping his tea. Anna laughed, 

"Oh no, they'll ask the same questions many times as they grow older, and each time I'll tell them a little more, be a bit more detailed, until they understand completely." The two were silent for a time, sipping on their tea. Anna looked at him, his head was bent and she dipped her head to try and see under his bangs, he had that sad look in his eyes again. "Hey," she whispered, he looked up quickly, "penny for your thoughts?" He glared at her, and she felt like a bug under a microscope. 

"Explain," he demanded.

"It's a way of asking someone what they are thinking, if you care to share that is". Again there was a very long pause, and Anna wasn't sure if he would answer at all. He was very careful about he said, and cautious with his questions, but eventually,

"Are all children like Caltha, at first?" she felt her heart flip flop when he asked that. How wonderful it would be if all she had to do was to take him into her arms and wash away all those problems with a hug. Yes, that would make her day, but of course things are never that simple, and Odin was certainly one of the most complicated people she'd ever encountered. Just when she thought she knew what was wrong, another problem would arise. The boy was practically swimming in them. 

"Yes, we all start out like that, happy healthy and hyper. Different people have different personalities, different ways of thinking, but everyone starts with a smile." Odin nodded and slid off his stool, taking the tea with him and headed for the door. Just before he reached the door she called out "Odin." He turned his head and she said softly, "thank you."

"For what?" he asked. Anna shrugged and smiled

"Just, talking with me." Odin gave her a look, just for an instant, one she would have said bordered on consternation. Then he left, and Anna smiled down at her tea. "Well how about that," she whispered to her self. She stayed in the kitchen for awhile longer, leisurely finishing off her drink before she put everything away and set out on the impossible mission of herding the younger children to bed.

~~~~~

Odin sat on one of the top stairs, early morning sunlight shone through the windows along the hall, warming his back, and Caltha sat impatiently in front of him. Somehow, he wasn't quite sure how, he'd had gotten roped into doing her hair this morning. He thought his agreeing might have had something to do with trying to shut her up, but he couldn't be sure. If that had been his reason the plan had backfired drastically, as she was talking just as much now as she had been the other night. So here he was, braiding her pigtails and listening to her endless chatter. He wondered what the other pilots and Relena would say if they could see him now, then decided he'd rather not to know. Maybe the side effects of acid on vocal cords wouldn't be too horrendous. He had started on her second pigtail when she asked,

"Odin, where do babies come from?"

"Sex," he answered simply, around the hair tie in his mouth.

"Oh," she said, "what's sex?" Odin stopped braiding her hair. Oh, how had Anna explained this?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	6. Dream a Little Dream

+

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of the Characters or references.

Notes: Well first I shall say that I am oh so happy people like my story! And thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! Secondly I will mention something I was supposed to say earlier which is anybody who should touch my house Gremlin shall suffer a most painful death (snuggles dark green leathery creature who fights with all its might). Also I may have to change my title. I just realized that I'm probably not going to be able to end this story the way originally planned and if so then the title won't have any point. When I figure out what I'll be changing it to I'll say so in the notes of the chapter before I change so you can all find it again. Or you can all just look up the author. This is my only story with multiple chapters so it should be easy to find anyway. 

****

Chapter six

(Dream a Little Dream)

Jinx couldn't sleep, there was just too much on his mind, to many problems to worry over. Finals for school seemed to have snuck up on him yet again, oh the horror. He groaned at the thought of the upcoming history test. He hated history and the twenty-second century in particular was unbearably boring. The whole class was just memorizing dates and listening to some old fart drone on in a monotone that would send the most studious to sleep! What was the use of that? History never put food on your plate or got you a place to sleep. 

He turned over and buried his face in the pillow. His bed was refusing to be comfortable tonight and Ethan was snoring again. Everybody else was just as overwhelmed as he was from the sudden cramming and ugly tests, so they were no help. Their new roommate was still giving them all the cold shoulder and it seemed the tension level in the room had risen several degrees. 

Ugh, he could hear the bathrooms leaky faucet from down the hall. He shifted on to his side and punched his pillow. Drip, drip, drip, drip… he swore, one of these days he was just going to take a gun and shoot the thing. He aimed his finger at the wall and pretended to do just that. Then let his arm fall back with a sigh as the dripping continued. 

Plus Neon had started having nightmares again; not as bad as last time, they were getting better. He flipped onto his back with a sigh and stared at the ceiling. He might as well give up; he wasn't going to be sleeping any time soon. Actually, he thought, lifting his head to look across the darkened room to where he knew Neon's lumpy form should be. He could just barely make out his huddled shape from the surrounding shadows. He was surprised his friend didn't have nightmares more often considering. He was pretty good at hiding it, but Neon had had bad time on his own. He had never told them what had happened or what he dreamt about, but for a long time Neon would wake himself up screaming. Now whoever was awake at the time (usually Jinx) would just nudge him awake if he started whimpering. He often wondered how Neon had survived at all, blundering and clumsy as he was. Yeah, Neon had had it much worse than him; he had been lucky. He turned his head to look at the other bed across the room from him. 

Ethan always took it kind of personally when any of them had a bad time. Whether it was inner demons or just teasing and bullies at school, he considered himself responsible. He had even taken it upon himself to help Jinx make some friends, no easy task. Whenever any of them needed a laugh they'd picture Ethan all decked out in his hockey gear, face painted, looking fearsome, and wearing a flower apron. Ethan had tried his best to squash the image, but by that time it had been well established. He was still trying to get Odin to open up to them. Neon had followed Jinx's example and left him alone. 

Ethan had never been on the streets, fending for himself, so he didn't see the ominous way Odin moved that the other two instantly picked up on. Jinx admitted he was intimidated, Odin wasn't the kind of person you really expected to see in the daylight. If Odin wanted to make friends that was up to him, but otherwise they would give him his privacy, and keep their necks intact. Besides, Jinx thought morosely, I'm not exactly the best person at making friends. I always make such a mess of things he mentally grumbled to himself.

He was so tired. He was almost drifting off when a noise from off to the side grabbed his attention. He looked up and peered through the gloom. Was that Neon? Jinx sat up and tried to make him out it the dark. Across the room Neon shifted under his covers and Ethan continued snoring softly. Neon began whimpering and tossing about restlessly. Jinx sighed and pulled back the covers intending to go wake him up; maybe it was just one of those nights. However before he could stand, Neon sat straight up with a gasp and looked around, searching for what had woken him up. Jinx caught his eye and Neon came over, stumbling across the room and plopping himself down beside him. 

"Bad night?" Jinx whispered, pulling the covers back over his legs. Neon rubbed his hands over his eyes and fell backwards across Jinx's bed with a groan.

"Not one of the worst," he whispered back with forced cheerfulness. Jinx reached up behind him and turned on his reading lamp, blinking in the sudden brightness. Neon gave a dying gurgle and covered his eyes with his hand, "ugh, that there's cruel and unusual punishment." Jinx reached into his nightstand drawer and pulled his battered deck of cards,

"Shut up and deal," he said. 

They had been playing for about an hour, Jinx was losing, and discussing various ways to murder the dripping faucet, when they heard another set of troubled noises. These were much quieter then the little whines Neon had made and at first the two couldn't tell where they were coming from. They carefully put their cards on the bed, face down, and listened. The little noises grew slowly louder and more frequent. They both turned their heads when Odin gave a sharp, tiny little cry and tossed his head. Jinx and Neon looked at each other, then back at their new roommate. Odd, Jinx thought, normally Odin slept like the dead. They watched uneasily as he grew more and more agitated in his sleep. Neon rubbed his hands against his thighs in an unconscious, nervous gesture. 

"You think we should wake Ethan?" he whispered, Jinx nodded as Odin began to tremble and then started shaking with more force. Jinx stood up to go wake the snoring older boy. Ethan came immediately, after Jinx finally woke him up, the boy slept like a log. He came and sat on Odin's other side, rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

"How long did it take you guy's to come wake me up?" he asked, Neon glared.

"Hey that's not fair, we woke you up first thing," Jinx hissed at him. Ethan reached out and gently shook the sleeping teen, but instantly regretted it. Instead of quietly waking him from whatever dreams upset his sleep, the contact only agitated him further. Odin shouted and began thrashing about, as though fighting some invisible force. The other boys all went to hold him down, no longer attempting to be gentle, just trying to wake him up. Hopefully before they woke the entire building. Ethan was yelling at him to wake up and snap out of it, while Odin strained against their confining arms. He bucked underneath them, kicked, pushed, bit and shoved, anything to cast them off. Neon was thrown to the ground with a kick in the face, but Jinx and Ethan held gamely on. 

Finally he managed to hurl Jinx off with such a force that the other boy flew across the room and collided with Neon's nightstand, spilling the contents onto the floor with a crash. Neon's swearing was being drowned out by Odin's cries. A strange tormented sound that sent shivers up their spines. It was almost preternatural in quality. An unusual combination of an agonized wail, a howl of rage and the laugh of a madman. Well, so much for remaining inconspicuous, Jinx thought shaking his head in an effort to clear it. By now the whole building must be awake. Neon pulled himself back up to help hold Odin down. At last Ethan leaned back for a moment, muttered what sounded like an apology and slapped Odin hard across the face. The reaction was almost immediate, the screams sharply cut off and the wrestling match came to a sudden halt. 

"What are you doing?" A low, deadly voice hissed from beneath them. It was not a question, it was a demand. 

"Wha? Uuuh," The two teens loosened their grip with startled grunts and looked down in surprise at the lighter form underneath. Two frost bitten eyes glared murderously back at them, causing them to gulp visibly.

"Get. Off. Of. Me!" he whispered darkly, each word pronounced slowly and completely. Ethan had no time to respond as he surged up between them, freeing himself easily. He slipped through their fingers like steam rising through a grate. He turned around to face them as soon as he stood. Neon had lost his balance and fallen on the floor again when Odin stood, but he quickly scrambling to his feet.

"Hey lighten up man!" he snapped quietly, trying to at least pretend that glare didn't make him want to soil his pants. "We was just tryin' to keep you from hurtin' yourself, or us." Ethan then stood, hands upheld in a gesture of peace.

"You were having a nightmare, we were trying to wake you up; that's all." A nightmare? That was… 

"Impossible, I don't have nightmares." Not anymore, he thought. Ethan looked momentarily stumped. Neon began nervously brushing himself off, looking anywhere but Odin.

"Yeah, right, hey why else would we be trying to hold ya down, so we could steal your money? You're as broke as the rest of us," Neon whispered. Ethan shivered as the temperature in the room lowered. Odin never twitched, but some how it seemed his bearing grew even colder. From the look of it, Odin could think of plenty of reasons, and Ethan was sure he didn't want to know any of them. 

A groan came from the other side of the room where Jinx was slowly extracting himself from the wreckage of Neon's bedside table. Odin spun around to face this new threat, confident that he could stop the two behind him before they made a move. He stopped however at the sight of Jinx stumbling to his feet and holding his head. No… did he? He must have thrown him against the wall. He stared at the debris around him, dazed. He couldn't remember a thing, not a thing. 

If not for the obvious destruction he wouldn't have believed the others. He looked down to his right at the reading lamp on the floor, the smashed remains of its light bulb scattered about it. He must have knocked it over at some point. Damnit, not again! Not now, he thought, balling his hands into fists to stop their barely noticeable shaking. 

The first time he'd woken up to find some broken object on the floor, he thought little of it, it wasn't a priority. But as the war continued, it kept happening, again, and again. He'd wake up bathed in sweat on the floor or the other side of the room. Things would be smashed or overturned and sometimes there was a dead animal. He'd search the bunker or abandoned building for an intruder, but there was never anyone there. Then that night, the night he'd had to bunk with Quatra. The night he found out that he had nightmares. The night Quatra found out and told him, through his newly busted lip… that he'd been screaming. He never knew what he dreamt about. Never remembered even having a bad dream, or what ever it was that made his heart beat at a faster rate. Quatra was the only one who knew, Relena and the others had probably guessed at some point, but Quatra was the only one who, _knew_. 

The nighttime occurrences had stopped when he'd gone off on his own. He'd decided that they must have simply been a temporary, detrimental side effect of being around certain people. Easily remedied. Only now it was happening again. Now someone else knew, he thought, poking at the shattered remnants of his lamp bulb with a toe, and that was leverage against him. He should let them know the consequences of informing anyone. 

Jinx watched Odin's glare slowly turn from the carpet to the rest of them, uh-oh. Jinx could almost see the wheels turning in the other boy's head. Neon gulped and Ethan shifted his feet. The dangerous silence was suddenly broken as the door to the hallway burst open with a loud boom, saving the three teens from an uncertain, but most likely painful fate. Anna stood framed in the doorway gasping for breath. Her fiery hair flying in all directions about her face and her chili pepper bathrobe flapping around her heels. Behind her the hallway was filled with frightened and worried faces, all peering around the doorframe. Anna took a rapid survey of the scene before her and swiftly turned to the curious onlookers. Blocking the view of the room behind with her body and partly closing the door she said,

"Back to bed, all of you." The children hesitated, some asking questions, wanting to know what was wrong. Anna would have none of it, "NOW," she barked out. The sound of retreating feet filled the air as they scurried away. Anna was known for being very even-tempered. It was rare that she would raise her voice to anyone, but when she did it was best to do exactly as she said. Anna hoped she hadn't frightened the other kids too badly, most likely she would have several rumors to quell tomorrow. She walked into the room of turmoil and shut the door firmly behind her. She needed all her attention on the situation before her and she couldn't be worrying about all the people in the hall at the same time. It looked as if things were going to be complicated enough on their own without all the extra people awaiting the outcome. 

She placed her hands on her hips and waited. Jinx was avoiding her gaze, concentrating on righting Neon's nightstand without skewering his feet on any of the nick-knacks that now littered the floor. Neon was wiping blood from his nose, and seemed to have found something fantastically interesting on the ceiling and was giving it his full attention. Ethan was nervously shifting from foot to foot; probably feeling chagrined that he hadn't taken proper care of the situation. She had to look for Odin. He had vanished from his original place in the center of the room and it was a lucky glance that showed him disappearing into the back wall. Finally she said 

"Well?" inviting someone to start explaining. Ethan glanced at the empty place where Odin had been standing and mumbled something under his breath. The others made no indication they had heard her. "Pardon?" she asked, Ethan repeated himself slightly louder.

"Odin was just having nightmare." Anna looked at each of them, incredulous.

"Just, _just_?" judging from the sounds that had woken her in fear, she had thought one of them was being pulled apart from the inside out! She was not about to dismiss the incident as 'oh just another nightmare' and she made this clear to all of them with a look. Ethan continued, very slowly. He recounted what had happened, trying to wake Odin up, the screaming, and Odin's apparent lack of memory. Anna listened carefully while keeping her eye on the place where she'd seen Odin melt into the shadows of the far wall. Though she couldn't actually see him anymore. If she hadn't already known where he was she would have thought he wasn't in the room at all. 

Odin was listening as well. From his dark little corner he heard the larger boy describe everything. He had pressed himself into the wall, shrinking in on himself, becoming as small and invisible as possible. He was edgy and wanted a gun. Ethan's voice lowered in pitch when he came to the part of his screams. They all knew now, all of them. He could have contained the information if it had just been the three of them, but now. Now everyone knew. He'd seen them all, peering around the door, faces staring at him, gawking and gaping. They would be everywhere. They all knew. 

He considered his options, there weren't many. Leave, or stay, stay, or leave. While all the thoughts in his head warred for supremacy, his eyes systemically checked the status of each person in the room. Jinx favored his back but it shouldn't be serious. Neon's nose was bloody but not broken. There was no other bodily damage worth noticing, just a few bruises. He stopped abruptly, then recounted. There were still only four, someone was missing. He stepped forward, walking between them without pause. The majority of his mind that was always working noticed that Ethan had stopped talking and they were all watching him. He said nothing. Ethan had already voiced all that was needed, there was nothing left to say. 

He marched out the door and down the hall. He ignored their calls. He had to make sure she was safe, the fact that she hadn't been in the room was insignificant. She had to be safe! The march quickened to a jog, the jog to a moderate lope, and soon he was running. He wouldn't be in time! Doors flashed past and corners seemed to turn themselves while he ran. He skidded to a halt outside her door, his socks sliding on the smooth wood. He checked himself before flinging her door aside, and quietly opened it a crack.

They all lay in their beds, shifting under the covers, pretending to be asleep. A solitary slice of moonlight crept between the curtains of the window and lay across her, cutting her in half. He should leave now, but what if that wasn't her? He slipped into the room and padded silently up to the second bed. She was on her side facing away from him. Sushi was tucked close under one arm, the other lay beside her face with the thumb stuck securely in her mouth. Her face twitched as she tried to remain still in her false sleep. He stepped softly around the bed and knelt down by her face without making a sound. She looked like she'd been slashed through the middle by the moonlight. He lifted his hand, oh so slowly, reaching for her. He stopped his fingers mere centimeters from her face. If he touched her she'd disappear as if she never was. And all that would be left would be a pool of blood, staining the happy doggy sheets a grisly red. His hand flinched when something grabbed his fingers. 

She took his arm and tucked it firmly against her next to Sushi. When he started to pull away she made a little noise and glared at him. Her mouth pouted around her thumb, her eyes demanding. The look said quite clearly 'this arm is mine and I'll fight for it!' when she was sure he wasn't going to try and get away again, she closed her eyes, snuggling closer and pulling the big hand up under her chin. That scream had been scary! But nothing would hurt her if Odin was around, even the closet monster was scared of him, she thought sleepily. Odin leaned in, resting his head against his captive arm, her breath tickling his hair. She's alive.

Anna stood in the doorway with Ethan. He'd insisted on coming after Odin as well. 'Just in case' he'd said. She closed her eyes, pressing two fingers to her temple. She was going to be in permanent therapy before she was fifty, she was sure of it. She turned around to Ethan and nodded her head in the direction of his room. He took a last look inside and left. Anna sighed and looked at the scene before her. They lay curled together with Odin kneeling on Caltha's other side, casting a protective shadow over her. The thin lance of moonlight fell onto his back, impaling him instead of Caltha, and giving his skin a corpselike pallor. The two were deathly still. Anna felt a chill run up her spine in the eerie silence, staring at the frozen picture before her. She stayed there for a very long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	7. Midnight Games

+

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of the characters or references. I'm just writing this for fun!

Notes: Several people have asked about Heero's jumpiness. I mentioned this in Chapter 5, its shell shock. That's what shell shock is. War veterans have survived and done some pretty nasty stuff in the course of their duty. Imagine normal people, your friend or neighbor, having to commit these horrible acts in a war. Think about what that would do to your physique. Umm, okay, stretching the truth a little here with Heero's scar. I'm thinking that he got it before he became a pilot. But even if an injury like that luckily didn't catch the spinal cord I'm guessing it would take you at least over a year to recover and probably more.

****

Chapter Seven

(Midnight Games)

He stayed out of sight the next day, hiding from the questioning eyes and pitying looks. At the moment he was skulking in the walls. He slid sideways gripping for hand holds in the narrow space. His back was pressed against one side of the wall, his nose brushing against the other side. He shut his eyes and held a sneeze when he dislodged more dust into his face. Then, creeping and crawling he made his way along to his destination. It was no different from any other part of the wall, except for the smell. Burnt flesh, a stench he knew well. He held up a tiny thumb light and scanned the insides of the wall. There it was, he reached out with a gloved hand to finger the two exposed wires, knocking the charred carcass of a rat off the ledge it had rested on in the process. He pulled the new wires from an all-purpose satchel hanging from his shoulder, along with a few other tools and began rewiring the chewed area. He hoped no one would turn the power back on while he was working, but at the same time he didn't really care if they did. Granted electrocution would not be his first choice of death. High voltage running through the body, burning away his insides. He looked down to where the dead rat had fallen far below; it hadn't hit the ground for a very long time. He wondered how quickly it had died after biting through the insulation. He turned back to his work. He wouldn't mind dying from a fall though. If it was high enough he'd perish the second he hit the ground, enjoying a brief flying sensation before hand. 

This train of thought continued for most of the day. He doubted he would die of old age. Yet it really was remarkable how many countless ways the human body could be injured and disposed of. Pushing, pulling, burning, snapping, drowning, aging, freezing, cutting, sickening, starving, impaling, crushing, suffocating, exploding… 

He sat on the second story balcony railing looking over the huge entryway and slowly drummed his fingers on the banister. The kids were trickling through the doors with the last day of school before winter break finally over. Perhaps someone would even manage to shoot him in a fatal place eventually. Though that seemed rather unlikely. Caltha was late. He began scraping at the varnished wood with his thumb. Most likely he would end in a fight of some kind, perhaps stabbed through the back, his spinal cord severed. Or perhaps there would be an accident. Crushed by an on coming transport, with his brains splattered across the pavement. Maybe she finally took the hint and decided not to come look for him anymore. What if something had happened to her? He realized the hall had emptied awhile ago. He had a perfect vantage point over the front doors and entryway, and there was no one coming in or running out. At a protesting creak he loosened his grip on the railing and folded his hands in his lap. 

The clock on the far wall read half an hour past the time she should be back. In a nearly hypnotized state he watched the long hand move around to the twelve, a full hour past. What if she was lost, or hurt? She might be lying on some street corner bleeding to death in the cold, or being pulled along by the rush of the crowds trampled beneath uncaring feet. She was so tiny; she couldn't fend for herself. He licked his suddenly dry lips and blew his hair out of his eyes. At the sound of walking feet he tore his eyes away from the clock and zeroed in on the woman who had appeared in the hall, Anna. He pushed off the banister he'd been sitting on and dropped to the floor in a crouch in front of her. She gave a shout and dropped half the files she was caring. 

Anna took several deep breaths, from the diaphragm, to calm herself while Odin stood. Then she swatted him fiercely on the shoulder with the files she still carried and snapped.

"Don't scare me like that!" Odin ignored her outburst. 

"Caltha is seventy-three minutes and twenty-seven seconds late," he stated. Anna blinked, then tried to withhold a smile. That poor boy, he'd been waiting for her for over an hour, with no idea.

"Odin, " her smile broke loose "Caltha's kindergarten class went for a field trip to a farm today. They won't be back until evening." Odin considered himself an idiot. Of course she wasn't missing, there would have been an uproar if she was. Idiot, he mentally hissed to himself while he handed her back the files he'd made her drop and trudged back up the stairs, berating himself all the way. Anna watched him go with some amusement, and some wonder. Maybe there was hope for him after all. Not that I believe in hopeless cases she reminded herself as she walked away.

Odin returned to his vantage point on the second story railing and watched the clock. The hands moved slowly but surely, the light outside became that pre-dusk quality and still he sat. He shifted position once when his leg went numb, but other then that he never moved. He looked like a dejected gargoyle, forever on the lookout. Not until he heard the bus come to a stop outside and they came skipping through the doors did he come alive. The other two ran for the kitchen at once, but Caltha stopped to look left, then right, unsure where she should start looking first. Odin cleared his throat to call her attention, the sound echoing through the empty hall, and Caltha came running. She bounded up the stairs babbling all way without a stop for breath about the things she saw that day, giving extra descriptions of the trip in the horse drawn sleigh. Odin sat on the banister and began to pick the straw out of her hair, actually listening to what she was saying.

~~~~~

"I'll take two,"

"Dealer takes one, your bet." Neon scratched the back of his neck, looked at Jinx, looked back at his cards and tried to look impassive as he made his bet. Jinx smirked and punched the pillow behind his back, he met the bet. Jinx called and they both showed their hands. Neon winced when he saw his friend's hand and showed his pair of two's. Jinx gave a whoop and quickly shut his mouth. The two late nighter's stilled and watched the door to see if Jinx had won the bet only to give away the game. The only sound was the usual snoring from the far bed. Neon punched Jinx in the arm

"Moron," he hissed. Jinx rubbed his arm and collected his winnings with glee. Neon started shuffling the deck, "again?" he asked. Jinx looked at him,

"What do you mean again, you've got nothing left to bet with."

"Awe, common man, ya know I'm good for it!" 

"Riiiight. You still owe me five from last week, and am I ever gonna get my shirt back?" unaware of their silent eavesdropper they continued to argue in whispers.

"I'm tellin you, ya wouldn't want it anymore. It's got…." Odin lay on his back in the dark. For some reason listening to them bicker was making him intensely lonely. It reminded him somewhat of the way Wufei and Duo used to argue, albeit less violently. It was, he realized, easier to be alone when you weren't surrounded by people. Maybe that's really why I've always stayed away, he thought. He turned his head to watch the two boys to his right, Neon trying to appear reliable and Jinx not believing a word of it. It was just easier to stay away and not be constantly reminded of just how different he was. Odin thought back to all the little speeches he used to give himself. He used to think it was better that he stay away. He used to tell himself that he was a danger to people and they would be safer if he wasn't there. He used to tell himself lies. All those things he used to believe now just sounded like lines he had memorized out of a database. They were just words and held no meaning. 

He was utterly still for a complete minute, he just lay there in shock at this epiphany. It had hurt less that way, he realized. It had hurt less to believe that he had to keep them safe, than to feel like he watched from the other side of the glass a world he could never dwell in, because he couldn't be normal. He rolled over onto his side to face the verbal combatants properly. 

It is a very scary thing to have lived your life in misery and sorrow, and then suddenly, to start to wake up. It is rather like growing up in a small dark room and unexpectedly finding a door into the daylight, without ever _imagining_ that such a thing could exist. Odin felt his insides curl. Perhaps none of it is true he thought. If what I thought was true about staying away isn't true, then maybe being on the wrong side of the glass isn't true either. At this point he was beginning to flounder in his knew thinking and his scientific mind took over. The best way to answer any question is to experiment, he thought. So, he reached under the bed for the stash of nighttime snacks he collected to quench his ever-present hunger and shuffled over to the boys on the next bed. Jinx and Neon looked up and gaped at him when he dropped the bag of snacks into the 'pot'.

"I will pay Neon's debt… if you teach me the game." No one made a sound. Neon looked like he was trying to swallow a horse pill. No one moved. Jinx reminded him of some small animal sniffing about for danger, unwilling to move out of it's hole. Nothing happened. Impasse, the experiment was a failure. Odin nodded, disliking the abrupt feeling of his heart falling into his stomach. He took back his bag and turned away, intent on going back to bed.

"Hey…" Odin looked back over his shoulder. Jinx was still looking suspicious but he glanced at Neon and asked. "Do you have anything sweet in there." Odin felt the corner of his mouth pull upward. He nodded and upended it on the bed.

~~~~~

"And lots of royal cards is a good thing?" Jinx nodded warily 

"Depends on your hand, but yeah, paint cards can be a good thing," he answered. Neon promptly folded. Odin smirked, the game wasn't that hard to play, it might even be boring without the bluffing. He was playing it dumb with the other two and watching their bets. There were several different tells he'd seen in the last games that gave information on the worth of the other hands. How much a person bet and when, small twitches in the face that gave away a good or bad card, and playing styles. Odin had won with his bluff by chasing Neon out of the game. They showed their cards, he was right, Jinx had a lesser hand. Neon dropped his head with a groan and swore at Odin's hand; he could've beaten him. Odin pulled his winnings into a pile by his feet and started chewing on one of the sweet, rubbery, brightly colored… things, as another game began. Neon had called them gummy worms. Odin supposed he should have waited to use the trick later on when the pot was bigger, he had just given himself away and wouldn't be able to use it again. 

Jinx dealt out the cards proclaiming it a changing game. When the second round came Odin chose not to get one or two new cards. His cards were all throw-a-way's and made nothing so there was no point. Instead he watched closely as all the faces on his E-cards went to static and changed. According to Jinx most people didn't let their cards change in a game unless they had nothing. It was risky he explained because you didn't just get new faces from the standard poker deck, but from every game deck the cards had been programmed with. You could end up with all Go-Fish cards. So unless you were lucky it was usually a lose, lose situation. You had to meet the standard bet but if you had nothing _and_ got no useful poker cards when they changed your hand was lost. Odin wasn't lucky, not at cards. He was smart. Neon had said that a third of the game was luck, a third was bluffing and a third was cheating. And cheat he did. It didn't help though, he still lost, so did Neon. 

~~~~~

"This is it, my lucky game, I can feel it in my scars!" Neon guffawed and quickly slapped a hand over his mouth to hide the sound. Jinx had been saying that this would be his lucky game since he'd hit his losing streak about an hour ago. The others were wondering whether his luck was good or bad. 

"Heh, what scars?" asked Neon, "the ones from old pimples?" Jinx laid down his cards, face down.

"Is that a challenge?" Neon just laughed. Jinx glared and stuck out his thumb. The others blinked and looked closer, they still couldn't see a thing until Jinx pointed out the nearly invisible line to them. Neon laughed,

"Watcha do? Cut yourself while choppin onions?" he sat back snickering and lifted up his foot proudly. Jinx leaned away from the foul smelling foot looking at it warily. 

"So?" he asked. Neon was slightly miffed that he also had to point out his scar. "Man, put your foot down, that so-called scar isn't worth the smell!" Jinx gagged.

"So lets see what you got, baby face!" Neon growled. Jinx pulled off his socks,

"Glass and who knows what else!" he exclaimed proudly. Jinx's feet were covered in a thin latticework of scars. Most of the noticeable ones were on the souls of his feet, with a few stretching up the sides. 

"Go'in with out shoes through city wreckage never did no one no favors" Neon agreed, "but I can still beat that." He pulled his T-shirt sleeve up to show a large patch of pebbly looking skin on his shoulder.

"Road rash, I was dragged along for a good while before I could climb up that jeep." Odin looked at Neon, curious.

"Why were you trying to climb onto a moving jeep?" he asked quietly. Neon opened his mouth to answer, paused, and closed it again. He licked his lips and muttered for Odin to mind his own business. Then turned back to Jinx.

"Give up yet?" he asked. Jinx shook his head and said,

"Beat this!" he pulled back the hair that was falling in front of his right ear to reveal a long curling scar. It started somewhere past his hairline and arched around the ear heading for the back of the neck. It looked like something had nearly taken his ear off. "Flying shrapnel from a MS explosion in the city," he said proudly. Neon was less impressed then he would have liked. "Piece of the cockpit actually stuck in the door after it flew past my ear… it still had parts of the pilot on it." no one said anything for a time, there wasn't anything to say to that. Eventually Neon cleared his throat and brought them all back to the matter at hand.

" Check it," Neon said, and pulled up the left leg of his sweat pants, exposing an extensive scar of his own. The thick, ragged white and purple line crawled up his leg, starting behind the ankle and going up to the side of his knee. Jinx gave a low whistle, that explained Neon's constant limp. It looked like it had been badly treated too. There were several large dents in the leg where parts the flesh had been eaten away and healed over. Jinx made sarcastic grin, intent on keeping some humor.

"Fall in a junk pile or something?" Neon frowned and said nothing. Odin looked back and forth between the two as they compared their 'Wounds of Glory'. He was bored. He had seen worse scars during the war. Many soldiers were sent home with entire limbs missing. He wanted to get back to the game. He had a good hand and he had run out of gummy worms. It didn't look like they would be getting back to it anytime soon though, at least not without help. Odin heaved a great sigh and pulled off his shirt. Jinx and Neon became very quite as he turned around to give them a full view of his exposed back. 

"Shit…" whispered Neon. They stared at the six or seven old shot wounds and the horrible dark gash down Odin's back that came out from his hair, down his neck and spine to end in a messy notch in his lower back just next to his spinal cord. Jinx reached out and cautiously poked one of the bullet scars. Odin stiffened and pulled his shirt back on. Turning to the other two he asked,

"Shall we continue?"

~~~~~

The three of them were sprawled across Jinxes bed staring at the ceiling. Neon stuck out his tongue and looked down his nose at it to check the color, a nice yellowish orange. He sighed and stretched, sticking his tongue back in.

"Man, I want a fix!" Neon whispered. Jinx snorted 

"I thought you said you weren't gonna touch that stuff any more?" He asked. Neon rolled over and sat up.

"I'm not, don't mean I don't want one," He answered back. Jinx rolled his head around to look at him.

"But you can't because they're still checking through your stuff,"

"Shut up. What, ya don't crave smokes anymore?" 

"No I do, but those are easier to get," Jinx said. Neon snickered and looked at Odin

"Easy to get and he still gets caught with 'em," Neon said. Odin looked up at Neon's upside down profile and asked

"So what did you take?" 

"Anything that would fry his brain." Jinx answered before Neon could speak. Neon started chewing on another piece of gum, blue this time. Odin figured he must be trying to get his tongue to be green, for some strange reason. He had discovered it was better not to inquire about motives with Neon. 

"Just smoke?" he asked, turning his head in Jinx's direction. Jinx nodded and sat up

"Mostly," he said, keeping his answer vague. Jinx crossed his arms over his chest and tried to look Odin straight in the eye. Failing that he settled for staring at the bridge of his nose. "What about you, you ever take any thing?" Odin's eyes unfocused and he seemed to go a long ways away, into a past they couldn't see. He didn't speak for a long time. The only sounds were the snoring from across the room and Neon's loud chewing. 

"No," he finally answered. Jinx raised his eyebrows

"Never?" he asked, somewhat incredulous. 

"No," Odin repeated, his gaze sharpening on Jinx. "I never needed outside substances to feel numb."

"What about booze?" asked Neon "you ever gotten drunk?" Odin shook his head

"No." Jinx and Neon looked at each other. 

"Whoa," said Neon. "Well you've at least been around the Dens right? Wine women and waste?" again Odin shook his head.

"No, I didn't stay in one place very long." 

"Huh, hey Jinx?" Jinx didn't look up from his card shuffle. 

"Yeah?"

" You still got that deal go'in?" Jinx took a coin out of nowhere and flipped it across his knuckles,

"Yeah." Jinx tossed the coin and palmed it. He chewed on his lip and looked at Odin. The general out look was one that said he didn't care much about his appearance, but even with the casual position he still looked sinister, with eyes that seemed like holes in the dark. He'd blend in no problem. "We'll let you know next time we go Den hiding, you can come if you want."

"Ya gotta watch yourself com'in back in though," Neon added. "If anyone smells somethin' on your breath it'll be hell! Especially if Ethan finds out" Odin nodded absently. He'd been watching Jinx for the last few minutes palming cards and coins, from who knows where, up one sleeve, back to the other, through the pockets, ears, nose, mouth and from hand to hand. Despite his quick eyes he could barely follow the careful movements and Jinx never did the same trick twice. With a tiny flick of the wrist the whole pack of cards came shooting down his sleeve into his palm and he did a waterfall shuffle, the cards falling from one hand to the other with a little flapping rustle. Then the deck disappeared again and Jinx began flipping coins in its place.

"Where did you learn that?" he asked curiously. Jinx stopped and quickly pocketed the coins.

"Uh, just around." 

"Jinx's been do'in that stuff forever," Neon added "but the day he finally pulls a naked woman out of a hat is the day I'll be impressed." Jinx let the cards fall from his hand into a line across the bedspread then flipped his line of cards backwards like domino's and stacked them. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	8. Baby Yells & Jingle Bells

+

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, nor any characters, places or references. I'm making this for fun only, so no beheadings please.

Notes: I can't really think of any big notes for this chapter. For the story in general I do have an announcement. The times between updates will be substantially lengthening, possibly even doubling. I'm starting college on the fourth, on top of running around as a peasant for the Ren fair and getting all I need done for that, uh, done. I'll write whenever I have time and fully intend on finishing, but I just thought you all might want a warning.

****

Chapter Eight

(Baby Yells and Jingle Bells)

Caltha was quite sure that nobody had ever experienced anything so painful. She fled down the halls to the library, tears streaking down her face as she ran. Pushing open the giant door with a grunt she proceeded to lose herself in the halls of data chips. The long racks glowed white on either side and seemed to go on forever, leading into darkness in front and behind. She slowed to a walk and then stopped altogether. She sunk to the floor with a sob and cried her heart out, letting the hot tears run down her stinging cheeks. 

Odin lifted his head from the data pad of puzzles he was… improving, and listened carefully. The sound of crying echoed through the library lengthening the sound and bouncing it off the walls. That sounded like Caltha. He dropped the data pad into his armchair and set out through the glowing halls of information. He backtracked his movements twice due to the echoes before he found her. 

"Caltha?" he asked softly. She didn't stop her sobbing as she looked up from her place on the floor. Seeing it was Odin she scrambled to her feet and flung herself at him. She clamped herself onto his leg and buried her face in his jean-covered thigh. Odin gently tried to pull her off but she was like a limpet and stuck to him securely. Failing that Odin took her chin and pulled her head up to look at him. He growled when he saw his first glance (before she permanently attached to his leg) confirmed. Her right cheek was red and carried four long scratches. They looked like nail scratches. Caltha's lower lip was trembling with whimpers and her tears left tracks down her dirty cheeks. Odin released her chin and walked out of the library dragging Caltha with him. It looked rather funny to passersby, and if he had been someone else they might have laughed. Odin walked with a great limp, dragging her and the leg she was attached to. 

He strode through the building looking for a bathroom that was not currently in use, a nearly impossible task on its own. However when he finally found one he still had to peal the Limpet off his leg. After much careful and delicate work he managed to unlace her fingers, only to have her lock her ankles behind his heel. He heaved an all suffering sigh and holding her wrists with one hand so she couldn't latch on again, he started on her ankles with the other. Eventually she was detached and before she could fling herself at him yet again he picked her up and plopped her on the toilet seat. 

"Stay," he said, pointing to the seat. He kept one eye on her while he slid back the wall mirror to reach the medicine cabinet. Caltha slumped on the seat and began kicking her feet sulkily. Odin cleaned her face and rubbed disinfectant on the scratches. Caltha squirmed as much as possible during the process and complained a good deal about the disinfectant. "What happened?" he demanded. Caltha sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

"They haaaate me," she whined. With that she spilled out the whole story. Of how she tried to join a game that the other little girls were playing. How they had agreed, but things turned nasty when she said she wanted to be a dog instead of a horse and couldn't they meet up with a big pink dragon and have a tea party. Odin found this part confusing but didn't ask. She told how the girl in red had gotten mad and raked her face with her nails. 

Odin was outraged and at the same time confused. How could children, who were supposed to be the innocents of the world, be so cruel to each other? Odin took Caltha's hand and headed for the playground outside. Caltha stumbled from trying to keep up with his fast pace and Odin bent down and swung her up with out breaking stride. Caltha hung on to her protector with one arm and stuck her thumb in her mouth with the other. Odin's feet sunk into the new snow when he stepped outside and he regretted not bringing a jacket. 

"Which one?" he asked the little body clinging to his torso. She took her thumb out of her mouth long enough to point to a little girl with dark hair and red overalls by the swings. Many of the kids made themselves scarce when they saw him coming. Things were serious now that a big person had been called in. Only Caltha knew how much trouble they were really in. She smiled around her thumb anticipating Red getting what she deserved. 

Odin set her down on the edge of the playground and crouched down so he was level with the girl in red. She looked at him with wide eyes and backed into the pole at her back that held up the swings. Odin's eyes were dark and narrowed under his hair, which blew wildly in the breeze that had picked up. He growled and showed his teeth. He seemed like some wild dog ready to attack. His whole body language said that he was going to make her hurt. The girl stared at him eyes wide as saucers. Red riding hood had just met the wolf. She squeaked when he grabbed her chin and pressed his fingers into her cheeks. 

"I'll be watching you and if you do that again, a little scratch will be nothing to the pain I will put you through." He growled low enough that only she could here. He gave one last hard squeeze on her jaw before he stood and turned away. Odin swung Caltha up onto his shoulders and walked back inside, leaving Red sitting in the snow with tears of her own.

~~~~~

Christmas, though enjoyable on the day, was an amazingly frantic affair to put together for an entire Orphanage. Odin found the whole thing rather odd. Having never had a real Christmas of his own, he'd assumed that shops and stores were having huge sales and that was why everybody went shopping at that time of year. This was one of his earlier theories from when he was young and he knew now it was very flawed. Partly because it didn't explain all the decorations, loud singing in the streets and people with flyers yelling out that this was the time of year to save your soul. He didn't how a flyer was supposed to save your soul. In his experience if a soul was really lost then it was gone forever. There was no getting it back. 

Eventually, he had simply attached the name of Holiday to it and decided that a Holiday was a time when people acted very silly. The man he had followed when he was little never celebrated the event, or deigned to explain it. Christmas wasn't important to him. The man had called him Boy and taught him how to shoot a gun, how to quietly avoid a search party and how to live off of grubs when the rations were gone. He'd been to busy training in Mobile Suit piloting with Dr. J to think of asking him, there wasn't time for such frivolities. Though he was sure if he had asked, Dr. J would have answered. 

Even so, there was such a rush of excitement when the adults and a few of the bigger kids hauled in a large tree and set it up in the Lounge, that his curiosity got the better of him. Watching them all laugh and argue about whether or not the evergreen was straight or not, he knew that of all his traits, his curiosity would be his downfall. He looked up at Caltha who was sitting on his shoulders and clapping. He was reluctant to ask any of the others what he knew must be an obvious question. He didn't like the looks he got when he asked one of those.

"Caltha, why are they putting a tree in the middle of the room?" he asked, keeping his voice low. Caltha giggled 

"So we can make it pretty!" She answered happily. Odin decided not to ask Caltha obvious questions either. He knew they were supposed to decorate it. One could hardly miss all the lighted tree's festooning the city. Or the advertisements flashing in your face each year claiming that they sold ornaments at lower prices then anyone else. What he didn't know was _why_. 

He had little time to ponder though as the kids crowded forward and began to hang lots of shiny ornaments on the branches. Odin made sure to stay well out of the way. Caltha squirmed and he let her down to dash off and help put all the ornaments that could possibly break on the lowest branches. Odin retreated to the entryway. Then to the second floor railing as the flurry of activity spread out from the tree. They hung pictures and threw stuffed snowmen and reindeer into various corners. Somebody put on carol tunes and turned up the volume so it pounded through the walls until an adult responded to the cries of distress and yelled at them to turn it down. The entire first floor was in a frenzy and the decorations seemed to crawl up the walls by themselves. He retreated further when they wound green garlands and lights up the banisters, taking over his spot. He was nearly surrounded. Something soft hit him in the back of the head and he glared over his shoulder into the throng. No one owned up to the thrown object. At a shout from the side Odin quickly ducked into a hall in an attempt to avoid the tinsel war that rushed past. 

Finally, heart beating rapidly in his chest, he found an empty hollow under some stairs that seemed relatively safe. Unlike some, he'd never had a problem with hiding. Sometimes it was all you could do. Better to cut your losses and live on to fight another day. After awhile the adrenaline rush drained from his system and the need for some kind of weapon slowly ceased. Later he was joined by Jinx and Neon who brought pillows and candy canes with which to wait out the siege. Neon just got in the way with his leg, and apparently Jinx had been the cause of enough disasters that he wasn't allowed to help anymore. 

~~~~~

On the day of Christmas Odin was woken early by a prodding in his back. Ethan let go as soon as the mop was snatched from him and hopped back to the other wall as quickly as possible. Normally they let Odin wake up on his own. He was always up before they were so it wasn't a problem, but today was special. Plus their room had been drafted to get up before the sun and make sure the kinde-gardeners didn't ravage Santa's bag. There was a sharp crack of breaking plastic and Ethan was very grateful to Jinx for suggesting the mop. They all ducked when half of the broken mop handle flew by and buried itself in the wall where their heads had been. Odin glared death at each of them and pulled on a large, fuzzy sweater and some sweat pants.

"Never, poke me." He growled. 

"Better the mop then us," Ethan said as cheerfully as possible.

"Come on, lets go find the little monsters and get something to eat," Jinx mumbled and steered a zombie like Neon out the door. They met a horde of the little creatures in the halls. One of which was Caltha. She made an excited squeal and attached herself to Odin's leg. The other boys made several very unsuccessful attempts to stifle their snorts of laughter and Odin glared. He swung her up on his shoulders.

"Come on, Limpet," he said, and headed downstairs.

The great tree twinkled in the dark. It's tiny multi colored lights hung haphazardly among the branches. More and more people trickled into the immense room as the sun came up. At nine or so the adults finally came down, hugging their coffees and scratching messy hair or beards. Next to the tree were several huge bags filled to the brim with brightly wrapped boxes. 

Odin sat on the floor, leaning against a far wall with several pilfered cushions at his back. Well away from everyone crowding around the bags. He crossed his arms on his chest and watched the paper fly. Each child was given at least one wrapped box out of the bags. Some children received more, from friends or relatives. Ethan caught his box in the air along a letter disk thrown by the adult with the moderate stack of mail. Caltha dashed up long enough to stick a star bow to his forehead and was off again. Odin pulled it off and tossed it to the side. The noise and the running were beginning to rattle him. He picked up his pillows and retreated to the farthest corner of the room, silent as a ghost.

He was untangling his feet from sealant and wrapping when Anna called his name. He called 'here' and reached up with his left hand without looking up from his feet and caught the small box that was thrown to him. He looked around, scanning the room of flushed faces. Seeing everyone busily engaged in their own gifts he slid down on his side and carefully unwrapped the box. His nimble fingers gently broke the sealant and pulled off the wrapping. He did not rip it, or crumple it. He opened the box and pulled out a package of cheap data chips. 

All presents given by the orphanage were cheap. They received very little money from the Unified Nation. Most of their income came from charity. He didn't mind that it was cheap though. It was gift, for _him_. That must be why people made such a fuss about Christmas. It was a time to give gifts. He held the package close and turned it over with his fingers, curious. The chips were fiction stories. He'd never read fiction before. He pulled out a chip and read its description. He pulled out the other chips, read them and replaced them in quick succession. There were also one or two Puzzle chips interspersed among the fiction. Unwilling to restrain himself, he leapt up and went searching for a data pad reader. Everyone around him was so excited, laughing, talking and jumping up and down, he couldn't help but feel somewhat excited too. 

Much later when most everyone had skipped off to enjoy them selves, Odin still lay on the floor in the farthest corner of the Lounge. Anna sat a ways away from him in one of the large armchairs. She was pretending to read a copy of Tarzan of the Apes. She held her head bent over the data pad, but her eyes slid off the words with out seeing them. She hadn't scrolled down in quite awhile. Her head tilted up and her gaze wandered over to the source of her musing. 

Odin had already gone through the puzzles in the pack of chips and was now reading one of the fiction novels. She had purposefully searched for some of the hardest puzzles she could afford. Granted the selection to choose from hadn't been all that great, but she had at least hoped they would keep him busy for awhile. Apparently not. She had noticed his attraction to puzzles early on, and when a few of the kids had complained to her that someone had messed with a bunch of the library puzzles making them impossible to solve, she'd had some sneaking suspicions as to who was the culprit. The boy had a head for problem solving. She was also suspicious of how he'd managed the feat. Chips were supposed to be protected from tampering. Well, at least he seemed to be enjoying the stories.

Anna ceased even pretending to read her novel and stared straight at the tousled head across from her. On that that thought, she was surprised he was showing enjoyment, or at least interest, at all. He had only been with them for about a month and already he'd shown tremendous progress. For someone as shut off as he was she would have thought it would take months or even a year or two to get to where he had arrived in a matter of weeks. 

He was hardly sociable, but he was talking. He didn't dart out the room when someone else walked in anymore. He had stopped subtly threatening them. He had begun to ask an occasional, tentative question now and then. She had even seen him voluntarily approach the other boys in his room, and she had spotted him hiding out with Jinx and Neon when the decorations went up. It was almost as if he wasn't learning these things for the first time, but rather, simply remembering lessons already learned that he had temporarily forgotten. 

Anna rested her head on her hand and tapped her temple with her fingers. She was curious what he would do when he didn't have any previous knowledge to draw from and really began to fumble through the dark in earnest. She suspected that if this hadn't happened already then it soon would. Still, she wondered who had taught him those first few, but invaluable lessons. 

Odin looked up with lazy steadiness and caught her gaze. She stood quickly and came over to where he was sprawled on his side across the carpet. This served the double purpose getting closer to him so she wouldn't have to raise her voice and breaking eye contact with out making it look like she couldn't look him in the eye. At least she hoped so. Despite the good progress he'd made in interacting with those around him he had yet to show any real facial expression. Those rare times he did make one it was small. Just a slight twitch to hint at a smile or frown. Even then it was more like he was pulling strings to move his mouth then actually smiling. When he glared he glared with his eyes and nothing else, and the same when he was sad. Most of the time he didn't even show that much expression. It often felt creepy at to watch him, moving about like a human with the face of a doll that never moved. It made her very sad when he was like that. 

Odin watched her sit down next to him with an 'oof'. He realized with a start that he had not given her anything at all for this holiday. Of course with the information available at the time this was to be expected. He had not been aware of the purpose the holiday. However now that he did, this would have to be corrected. Anna had not said anything so he took the moment of opportunity. 

"I don't have a gift for you," he stated. This shook Anna out of gathering her thoughts from the various directions they had wandered in and she looked at him in surprise.

"You don't need to give me anything," she said. 

"Isn't that the point of this holiday?" Odin asked. Anna smiled

"It depends on who you ask. Different people celebrate it for different reasons. To me it's a time to celebrate life, and the people you love." She grinned and winked at him "the gift giving is just a perk." Odin nodded and looked down at the data pad on the floor. He did not love anyone, nor had he ever celebrated life. The data chips were interesting, but they were only metal and plastic, an object easily replaceable. Logically there wasn't any reason to give a gift. It was only an object and giving something away did not help a person to survive. In fact it would have the opposite effect. So giving something useless must mean something important for people to continue the tradition. Though he couldn't figure out what. He wondered if he had something to give her if it would even matter since he didn't love her. Odin sat up next to her. He had nothing substantial to give this woman who had taken him in without any obligation to do so.

"Ask me a question," he said. Of course much of the information he held was classified and could not be mentioned, but knowledge was the only thing he had to give. Anna blinked at him, studied her hands and drummed her fingernails. He thought of her asking about parents, family, past and history. Normal questions that any normal person would have answers to. He knew he had just talked himself into a hole, but it was only one question. He could answer one question. What if she asks about the wars? An ominous thought whispered back. What if she asks about how you survived? The people you killed, the things you did or the people you've known. Beneath the clockwork efficiency of his mind a traitorous little thought hissed. What if she asks about your sanity? Still of all the questions he thought and dreaded her asking he never suspected. 

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Odin's brain stopped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	9. Hockey & Letters

+

Disclaimer: I do neither own Gundam Wing nor any of its characters or references and I make no claim to.

Notes: You know I was actually ready to update on Monday but ff.net wouldn't let me login and update and them my whole Internet shut down. Waves fists angrily at the Inter Nexus Gods. No more sacrificial offerings for you!

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Chapter Nine

(Hockey and Letters)

Odin sat on the fallen trunk of an old tree and pulled on his skates. Ethan had been most insistent that he participate in this game. He pulled his knee to his chest and began lacing his skate while watching the other people glide across the ice and warm themselves up. He finished his right skate and pulled up his left. Lots of the older boys from the orphanage were pulling on skates of their own or were already on the ice. There were also other adolescents and a few men in their twenties that he didn't recognize. One of the men he didn't know had come up to Jinx and was ruffling his hair in friendly fashion. The man looked about twenty-one or so and was a good deal larger than Jinx. He was bundled up like the rest of them in winter layers, but his clothes were a bit shabbier then theirs. Odin could also see that under a thick cap the young man was very bald. 

Odin stood up from the log and tested his skates on the ice. The skates were borrowed from Neon who was the closest to his size. Neon had admitted earlier that while he enjoyed skating around, with his leg he wasn't much use in this game. Odin took a few gliding steps to get himself in the rhythm and then skated around the pond they were going to use as a rink. He picked up his speed almost racing around the perimeter, enjoying the fluid movement required and the sharp air blowing in his face and through his lungs. He hadn't done nearly enough running this past month. 

He came to a quick halt in front of Jinx and the other man. The man was laughing heartily at something Jinx had said, but he stopped when he noticed Odin standing next to them. 

"Oh this is Odin. Odin, meet Borg," Jinx said nodding his head casually between them. Borg looked Odin up and down with a nonchalant attitude. It was a lazy look that had neither warmth, nor enthusiasm but was used to assessing people for a fight. Odin in turn took a closer, dissecting look of his own. A hard face, but not a strategically calculating one. Tall, heavily muscled, with many places in his clothes that could hide a weapon of moderate size and a slightly smoky stench to his breath. An intimidator. 

"HAH." Borg let out a harsh bark of laughter, breaking off their quiet reviews of each other. He grinned and pulled out rolled up joint from one of his many pockets. A man of few words, Odin liked that. He crossed his arms over his chest and twitched the edge his mouth in a small smirk. It was a sense of instant camaraderie. The kind of understanding that comes with meeting someone of a similar soul as your self. Odin was briefly reminded of Trowa and the quiet, thoughtful air that he carried with him. He and Trowa had had a similar understanding. 

"It's a pleasure," Odin nodded back. Borg grinned at Odin and Jinx and said,

"You have interesting taste in company Jinx-boy. Ah, I've got an errand for you after the game." Borg was about to light his joint when Ethan skated over. The tension in his body was clearly visible and he did not bother with any form of pleasantries. He stopped in front of Borg and snatched the joint from his mouth. Borg growled deep in his throat and Ethan glared back, taking advantage of the two-inch height difference to look down his nose at the man. 

"It's no concern of mine how you sign your death warrant, but the rest of us aren't so eager to join you!" he hissed and threw the cold cigarette to the pond bank. "Come on, Jinx, Odin," he said and gestured for them to follow him. Jinx stubbornly stuck his hands in his pockets and made no move to follow.

"Borg already picked me for his team," he said. Ethan blew a hot breath out his nose. He looked at Odin, who made no attempt to move either, and glared at Borg, but did nothing else. 

"We're going to start," Ethan said and skated off towards where the group was milling around by the edge of the pond. Borg cracked his knuckles and scowled at the other boy's retreating back. Odin nodded to Borg and Jinx and skated after Ethan. 

The picking of the teams went relatively quickly. Anna's father Gerry arrived wearing a bright orange armband that proclaimed him the referee and carrying several bags of helmets, protective gear and sticks. There were too many people for just two teams so each team had a number of alternates they could bring in at any time. Odin ended up on Ethan's team as a forward player in an offensive position. Gerry took out some coherent fuse paint and drew a red line through the middle of the pond. They set up the goal posts and stretched the nets across them. Everyone took their places for the face off. Gerry blew his whistle, dropped the puck and the Hockey game began. 

Odin had never played Hockey, nor had he ever watched it being played. He soon discovered it was a violent and frustrating game. Before they had begun Ethan had gone over some of the basic rules with him. The object of the game was to get the rubber puck into the opposite goal more times then the other guys. 

Ethan had also been very adamant on the rules of checking (or smashing into another player to prevent control of the puck). Smashing into players who did not control the puck was against the rules and in bad form. There was no head butting, no charging, no elbowing, and no grabbing onto another player to hold them in place. Although you could get away with stretching your arm in front of there chest. There was no boarding, or in this case smashing the other player into trees in the absence of walls. There was no hitting another player with your stick over the shoulders. Unless it was an accident as in Jinx's case where he over accelerated his swing at the puck and spun around, hitting his fellow player on the side of the head. Ethan didn't say anything about below the shoulders so one of the opposing players lost the puck when Odin it him in the back of the knees. There was also no fighting. Borg had grinned at Ethan and said that it wasn't considered an actual fight until you took your gloves off. Officially there was no slashing another player with your stick either, though all the players got away with it quite a bit.

Odin skidded to a halt on the ice when a stop was called. Gerry blew his whistle and skated over to Borg's right wing forward. Borg and Ethan also skated over and they and Gerry proceeded to yell about the smashing that had just happened. They had been playing for a good while and tempers were running high. Gerry shouted at the top of his lungs and the two captains went back to their places. Gerry brought the puck over and stood next to Odin and a boy with red hair from the opposite team. 

Odin leaned down with his stick to face the red haired player. He was hot underneath his clothes and his armor. Some sweat trickled down the side of his face and wiped his brow with a gloved hand. His hot breath puffed and clouded in front of him. The red head growled at him and stared at his nose. He stared back and remained absolutely still. 

Then the puck was dropped and Odin moved to take it. The Red head blocked him and they battled it out with their sticks. Wood making a sharp clattering sound as it hit against wood and ice. As soon as he saw an opening Odin grabbed the puck with his stick and was away. A loud curse came from behind and he could hear the other players come together around him. 

Odin flew across the ice, pushing the puck before him with his stick. The freezing air cooled his face as he raced along. Up ahead two enemy players moved into position to block him. Odin had just enough time to turn and avoid them. Skidding with his skates and sending crushed ice into their faces. The players of his own team were all around him trying to protect him from enemy players and ready if he should pass the puck to any of them. On the banks the people who weren't playing now were shouting encouragement and curses at each other and the teams. 

Odin felt flushed and heady with the rush of the game. It was hot. Something stirred inside and for a moment he saw enemy Virgo suits bearing down on him instead of people. His fellow teammates became Gundam's and Zero was wailing in his head. Everything was red. He tightened his fingers on the end if his stick. He could see the screen guidelines over the ice, which was now as black as space. _Enemy suits on your left, watch out! He's on my tail, I can't shake him, bogies coming in at four marks and three ten, I can't die like this, surround them, For the colonies! Oh my god! IT'S A GUNDAM! AAAAAAAAAAA_

"AAAAAAHH!" Odin stopped and stood still on enemy ice, his shoulders rising and falling with his heaving breaths. His arms fell limply to his sides, the hockey stick dropping slowly from his hand. His blood was pounding in his ears and drowning out all other sound. The enemy Goalie was pulling himself up from the ice where he had been sprawled. There was a hole in the net that had been stretched across the goal posts and the puck was halfway buried in a tree behind it. 

Odin reached up and undid the clasp under his chin. His hearing was slowly returning and he could here the whistle blowing and people shouting as if from far, far away. Raising one gloved hand he slid the helmet off his head and ran a hand through his sweat soaked hair. The helmet fell to the ice with a clatter and rolled away from his feet. The Goalie was looking at him as if he was some kind of demon risen from hell. Odin turned away from that look and spun around to look at the pond behind him. Gerry and the two captains were skating over to him. Behind them several players were getting unsteadily to their feet. One of Borg's defense men had a couple of people crouching over him and wasn't moving. When Gerry and the two captains reached him he just said

"I shouldn't play anymore," and skated off the ice with his helmet and stick.

~~~~~

Ethan rubbed the old towel through his clean, wet hair with a sigh. He dropped the towel onto his bed and pulled on his dad's old shirt. It was his favorite and the one that fit him best. His dad had been as big as him he was told. The shirt was nice and worn and had the comfort of good memories. He sat down on the bed to pull his socks on and made a face when he heard something crack underneath him. Shifting over slightly he pulled the letter disk out from under him and looked at it. He let his socks fall to the floor and stared at it, letting his forefinger wander along the crack in the protective case. He held it almost reverently, but made no move to open it. It had been several weeks since Christmas and he still hadn't opened it.

He looked up when Odin entered, also wet from a shower. Grateful for the distraction he called Odin over. Typically, Odin ignored him and settled on the windowsill with a data pad. Ethan rolled his eyes heavenward and asked or patience. Neon was downstairs gorging himself on leftovers and Jinx had said he had some important errands to run, so Odin was his only company. He shuffled over to the other boy, letter still in hand.

"Hey Odin, how you doing?" no response. "You know you really freaked us out back there on the ice…" nothing, not even a twitch. Ethan heaved a sigh and dropped himself on the other end of the sill. All right, he thought to himself. I guess it was too much to hope for that I could put this off. He brought the letter disk forward and spent a moment wishing it wasn't there. At least if he didn't get one at all it would bring his hopes up. "Look, uh, Odin, I need a favor." Odin looked up from the data pad but didn't move his head. Ethan gulped and handed him the letter. "…Could you open this for me?"

"Hn," Odin grunted in response and took out his novel chip, sliding the disk into the data pad in its place. Standard data pads did not have speakers but the little machine spit out a pair of earphones to listen with. Odin glanced at Ethan who was busy fiddling with the edge of his shirt and stuck one the phones in his ear, watching the screen. 

Ethan waited anxiously for the letter to finish. After awhile Odin took out the disk and handed it back to him.

"So?" he asked. 

"It was your mother," Odin replied in his usual monotone. Ethan ran his hands through his hair in frustration. This was worse then opening it himself; at least then he'd have it over and done with. 

"I know that… what did she say?" 

"That she loves you and misses you and that she will soon be out of the drug program." Ethan sagged back against the window feeling his heart drop into his pelvis with the disappointment. He should have known, he did know. He snorted in disgust as much at himself as at her. He knew he should be used to that response by now, should be getting numb to it. Unfortunately in reality he had the opposite reaction. Twice a year he would get a letter, twice a year he would hope she'd finally done it and twice a year he would have his hopes crushed. _Damn_ her for getting his hopes up for nothing. 

Ethan turned around and flung the window open with a violent CRASH. He leapt out onto the roof outside their window, his anger heating his blood and body enough for him to mostly ignore the cold. He stomped to the edge of the roof and threw the blasted piece of metal and plastic as far as his strength could make it go. Which was a considerable distance. Having thus expelled his anger he was left only with his disappointment. He dropped his large bulk onto the cold roof tiles and listlessly stared off in the direction he'd thrown the stupid letter. Sometime later when he was getting cold he noticed that Odin had joined him with a pair of jackets. 

"Thanks," he mumbled and pulled on the one that was handed to him. "Sorry about that, you guys have enough to deal with without me turning red and getting steam coming out of my ears." He heaved a sigh, his breath making a little cloud in the air. "She could beat this if she tried, she doesn't need that… stuff. She's such a flake…" Odin said nothing, just scooted forward enough to dangle his legs off the roof over a four-story height. "Do you miss your home?" Ethan asked suddenly. 

Odin wasn't sure what he should think about that. He was already working on the problem presented by Anna about what he would like to do with his life. It was a much more complicated question then she thought. Or was it? It was possible that she had known _exactly_ the kind of question she was asking. 

Now Ethan had posed another hard question that apparently was supposed to be easy. Of course in order to miss something one must have had it at some point. Interesting that Ethan had assumed that he had had a home. He hadn't actually, not that he could remember and his memory went very far back. What was a home anyway? What made it different from a place you lived in? He had wandered from place to place through outer space all his life. An old habit he'd fallen back on in peacetime. He wasn't really from L1, Dr. J just happened to find him there. 

Outer space… Earth was fine, but it could never compare to space. It was so quiet you could hear the stars breath, and so beautiful. He remembered siting in the cockpit of his Wing Gundam, in the dark, just him and the silent vastness of space outside. It made you feel so small, staring into infinity, awe inspiring and endless. There were no words to describe it. This muddy little planet felt constricting in comparison. He lifted his face to the sky and the few stars that made it past the bright lights of the city. That was were he had soared. 

"Yes," he said. Yes, he did miss outer space now that he thought about it, and it was a good a home as any; for all that it wasn't a building. Satisfied with having given an answer he lay down on his back on the roof with his legs off the side and stared up at the sky. 

It was not easy to answer these questions. His rigid training tried to keep him from giving any more information then absolutely necessary to his survival, but it was also hard to think of answers to things that he had never thought much about. People would ask him these things in a way that indicated it was simply everyday information that everybody had. It was sometimes… disturbing that he had to think so much about it.

Thinking of space brought up other, not so pleasant memories. He knew they were there, dragged up from the bottom like a sack of refuse attached to one pure memory. He pushed them back under ruthlessly, refusing to look at them and concentrating only on the thought of space, not what had happened in it. It would be back though, that ugly sack. In the night it would come. When he was alone it would come. But for now, he could ignore it, tell himself it wasn't there. 

"You lived in space?" Ethan asked, a little bit of awe creeping into his voice. Then he frowned, "how did you end up on Earth?" Odin just shrugged. Ethan settled back on his elbows next to him and followed his gaze upward. Odin lifted his left arm and pointed his finger at the L4 colony. 

"Quatra," he mouthed. The space station was in its lower orbit at this time of year and clearly visible. With that as a guide he could estimate where all the others should be even if he couldn't see them. In turn he pointed to the L3, L2, the place where the L5 colony would be if it was still in existence and named each pilot. He pointed up to the lunar base for Noin, then to the empty space where the battle of the Libra took place for Treize and Zechs. He let his arm fall back to his side but never moved his eyes from the sky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	10. Fine Apparition

+

Disclaimer: I don not own Gundam Wing or any of the characters places or references. This is written for fun with intent to insult or gain profit.

Notes: Once again I apologize for the time it took me to update. I'm writing on this whenever I can but things have gotten hectic. I'll probably figure it all out eventually and get myself organized, but for now it's whenever I have a free moment. You know only after I wrote this chapter did I realize how weird it was. I didn't intend for it to take this turn but it seems anything I write will eventually turn weird and bizarre.

****

Chapter Ten

(Fine Apparition)

"Need a tune up? Are your circuits just not working the way they should be? Then come see a professional machinist, we're not just your average repairmen!"

" I'm Doctor Brine, you look a little down. Are you implants giving you trouble? I'm a certified MD. Getting Implants or any biomechanical operation done by any amateur is dangerous. If you have a real medical need I can help. Hey now don't just walk away."

"Hey there handsome, looking for a little love and intimate relations? Want to indulge your sensual side for cheap, we can make all your fantasies come true. Just, BZZZRRSTS… lane." The young man didn't even blink as he walked through the irritating hologram. He continued trudging through the crowds of people and keeping to the darker side of the walkways. He stopped on one of the higher building bridges and looked over the side into the river of traffic below. 

It was nearing evening and the city lights were turning on. Great fluorescent signs for space flights, hotels, brewery's, exotic animals, body art and mutations, restaurants, gag shops, instant knowledge (with a column of medical warnings in tiny print), clothing, illusion fantasy's, computer, beauty and other stores of every kind. They said that if you couldn't find what ever you wanted in one of the Great Earth Cities then it didn't exist. There were brothels for every preference, ego trips if your preference was famous or not available yet. There were shuttles to the sea colonies and rift stations. There were concerts and opera's, including a special show by the four-armed man on a flaming pole doing impossible contortions. 

Off to the right a skyscraper had lights traveling along its windows. Green lights moving up, down and across, blue lights moving diagonal and inside out. Glowing in the center was a constant white company logo. Many of the commercial screens were holographic and able to float along in front of your face for a designated distance. These were cheaper then actual salesman holograms and used by the lesser companies. As night fell more completely, the energy veils on the sides of the walkways and ramps became visible. There was a stark contrast between the ramps which were dark with only car and directional lampposts to light the way, and the city walkways which were nearly as bright as daylight from all the building lights, floating commercial screens and holograms running around. 

One of the holograms advertising skin recoloration wandered a little too far in search of customers and ran into the veil by side of the walkway. There was a slight fizzling sound of mixing currents and the holo turned off. The young man grunted in satisfaction at the apparent demise of another hologram. He did not like holograms. He turned the corner and walked through another one. This one however did not take the hint. 

"Ye look a li'le down on yer luck young sir, 'ad some trouble wi' the missus?" 

"No." he said stiffly. He quickened his walk but made no more moves to acknowledge it. The hologram continued to tag along behind him trying to sell its' masters services. Whoever had programmed it had obviously been a very persistent person, if nothing else. 

"Now, it don' do to jus' run off wi'out 'ear'in what a man as to say. Mite rude it is!" he hitched the strap of his all purpose sack higher up on his shoulder, completely ignoring the sales program. "Ye don' look the type to be wanderin' 'bout wi'out a purpose, lookin' for some'un are yeh?" the youth stared firmly ahead, intent on remaining oblivious to his follower. "Not yer wife then, but might it be some'un else? A brother, a friend gone miss'in?" he stopped at a crossroads junction and turned slightly to look over his shoulder. He did not appreciate the holo programs lack of respect for privacy, nor it's observant questions. He hoped that he would soon reach the border of this holo's movement space.

"I have no need of your services," he said, annoyance creeping into his voice. 

"Well now how do yeh know that, if'en ye don't know what my services be young sir? Mayhap I have just the services ye need, and ye do look like enough to be in need uv somethin'." Out of the corner of his eye the young man saw a pale glowing and semi-transparent hand point to his shabby sack and less than new clothes.

"Any business I have is my own. A mans journey is not something to be used for commercial gain," he spat. "My search is my own!" 

"Now young sir I meant no disrespect I did. Sure an' certain ye could it on yer own. I just be thinkin' ye might want to finish a'fore ye die of old age is all, and I 'ave only modest wage." His hands bunched into fists, his fingernails biting into his palms. Ancestors give me patience and keep me from screaming, he prayed. Things had gone badly the last time he did that in a city square. There was only so much he could tolerate. He had been surrounded by loud, busy people all day without any space to breath, He had clearly stated he was not interested in what ever it was selling and still it did not leave. 

"I do not need or want your services, nor do I need or want your company. Now go away!" he snarled viciously. The hologram stopped in the middle of the bridge they had been walking across. After such a clear dismissal its old programming stated that it was not supposed harass this person any longer. The Hologram stood in the center of the walkway bridge and watched the youth stalk off among the crowds. It never lost sight of him though. With incorporeal eyes narrowed it followed at a distance. Far enough behind so as not to attract attention and close enough to see where it's target was heading. 

~~~~~

He stepped out of the stall and thanked his ancestors for public access showers. They might be cheap and sonic, but clean was clean and this way he could wash his clothes for free as well. Besides, he thought stepping up to a mirror; no government old or new would pay a water bill for its homeless. 

He paused in front of the mirror, examining his reflection. He had only put on about half an inch since the war and was still ridiculously small compared to the average boy his age. He blamed his ethnicity. Besides, only the foolish will judge a man by his size. He remembered a great grandfather of his who could bring down a full-grown man in one move and was no higher then four feet.

He looked more closely at his face. It had elongated somewhat making him look older, but his features were just as severe as ever. His face and body were all sharp angles. Tired black eyes and black hair that had grown longer. It now reached down to the bottom of his shoulder blades brushing softly against his bare back when he moved his head. With a grunt he reached back into the dry shower and pulled out his clothes. Slipping on a faded blue tank top, some jeans and his traditional white over shirt with three buttons missing, he left the crowded facility. He grabbed his bag from one of the safety boxes and slung the strap over his shoulder. 

Once outside he made his way to a relatively quiet corner in a back walkway and finished pulling on his combat boots. Somewhere in the building behind him they were playing a piano concerto. He felt more relaxed after the shower. Any nervous energy that had built up during the day was washed away with the dirt. He leaned back against the brick building, still warm from the day's heat. Winter was ending on this part of the earth. The days were warmer and new plants were starting to struggle their way up through the melting snows in the few public and private gardens around the city. It would be a warm night.

He thought back briefly to his encounter with the persistent hologram. Most holograms were given a simple program of lines and various approaches to attract a customer. They followed these parameters completely and without thought, like any computer program. But every once in awhile you came across a smart one. One that could improvise at times based on its store of knowledge. Sometimes they appeared to almost think and that was disconcerting in a world where AIs were still just a myth for the most part. 

Smart or not he was sure he had no use for any services its company could render. He had only one task now, one that he would do alone. He had been searching for a year and he would not be so weak as to falter now. He would not fail himself... Or him, he added as an after thought. He had no doubt his comrade would be just as lost as he. 

He relaxed a little more into the warmth of the wall behind him and pulled out a small book from his bag. It was unusual in that it was made of old materials and full of paper rather than the usual mechanical data reader. With a private smile of pleasure he brought the book to his face and inhaled the faint smell of paper, ink and binding. Then he brought out a pen and began to write in a small flowing hand. So engrossed was he in his writing that he never registered the quiet electric fizzle to the left.

" I do a'member me an old sayin' now, pride goes before the fall." He stilled his pen and capped it with a soft sigh, closing his book. It seemed that the universe was conspiring to bring every petty annoyance that existed against him at times. Just to see if he would crack. 

"I do not need your services!" he hissed without looking up.

"Bollocks, young sir."

"What?"

"Bollocks, complete bollocks! My eyes 'aven't deceived me yet an' I'd bet me life, uh, if I 'ad it tha' is, that yer more loykly to end up six fee' under then comin' to the end uv your _journey_, as ye so eloquently pu' it, an that won't be do'in your friend any 'elp." He stopped mid motion in roughly stuffing his book back into his bag and turned his head to look at the hologram to his left. Standing casually against the wall was the glowing image of an older well to do 19th century gentleman. Complete with a dark frock coat, top hat, walking cane and a pair of oval spectacles perched on its nose. Its hair was dark and well trimmed, with a thin mustache and goatee sporting its chin. The image was smiling a shrewd smile in greeting, and its eyes twinkled with an intelligence that was unmistakable. It had actually sounded like person when it had spoken… but it was not supposed to be able to think. 

He was not so feeble as to refuse to admit that the hologram's speech had had a ring of truth in it. He was not in the best condition himself he knew. He felt burnt out. Though his temper was just as quick as ever and his fuse seemed to be getting shorter daily. Some days it seemed that he lived in a perpetual rage. Others he felt no more substantial than ashes blown about on the wind. 

He knew his reasons for searching for his old ally were selfish. No one wants to suffer alone. He wasn't even searching with much purpose. The program was right; if he really wanted to find him, he wouldn't do it on his own.

"What exactly is it that you do?" he asked. The Holo grinned roguishly and swept off its hat in a bow. 

"Private detective young sir! I specialize in missin' persons, cheatin' spouses, missin' valuables an even a few murder investigations, though they do be gettin' awful rare now days. Most uv me clients are angry old bags whi' too much time on their 'ands to meddle 'bout in other peoples business. I 'aven't 'ad me an interestin' prospect in some time, but you look to be in a right bit uv trouble if I may say so sir." 

"You already have." He reached up behind him and tied his hair in a simple ponytail. "Very well, you find missing people, but can you find someone that doesn't exist?" he asked. The holo paused with a slightly stumped expression.

"I honestly don' know young sir, I can't say I've ever tried before." The young man dug out a crumpled paper photo from his bag and showed it to the hologram. 

"This is all there is to go on." The hologram bent in to take a closer look at the picture.

"Yeh mean to say tha' ye've been searchin' about wi' no more 'an this in yer pocket? You're off yer trolley young sir!" then it pushed its spectacles farther up its nose (from where they promptly slipped down again) and grinned. "Well, like I said I've never tried to find some'un that don' exist before, but I do love a challenge! What be yer name young sir"

"Chang Wufei, when do I meet your designer?" after all he would like to meet the man he was hiring. The holo made another quick bow.

" Phineus T. Wile a' yer service young sir. Not to worry, I 'aven't failed a case yet. All resources available will be used to their u'most for your service. In fact I do believe I know the exact place to start!" with that he strode briskly out of the side passage, whistling a merry tune and beckoned Wufei to follow.

Wufei swung his bag up onto his shoulder and followed. Something was not right here. I'm going to regret this, he thought to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	11. Double Double Toil & Trouble

+

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing nor it's characters or setting.

Notes: I thought I mentioned this in previous notes but I guess not. I'm not planning any sort of romance for this; the story is not about that. So no, there will be **no** 1x5 or 5x1, or 1 or 5 times anything else. It's just not a romance story. Also, I'm sorry if any of you were thrown by the previous chapter, yes that chapter is for Tears of Life I didn't make a mistake. That last chapter is one of the first obvious twists this story makes in its course. I didn't mean to change the feel of the story, the world always looked the same to me I just didn't describe the city much in previous chapters.

****

Chapter Eleven

(Double, Double Toil and Trouble)

"Haven't you gotten his attention yet?" asked Neon as he limped into the room he shared with the other boys. Jinx stood in a sulking position with his hands in his pockets, glaring at Odin who was sitting on his bed with his nose buried in an old clunky laptop from the library. For all appearances lost to the world. 

"What does it look like?" Jinx grumbled back. He gestured angrily at the boy in front of him. His only movement being the steady tapping of his fingers glowing buttons and an occasional flicker of eyes between different open windows. 

"Did ya try and lift it?" Neon asked. Jinx turned his glare on him and Neon laughed at the somewhat sulky expression on his friend's face. 

"No, you know he'd snap my neck if I did that. Besides I don't see him just letting go, the guy's practically bonded with that thing."

"You want to try those smelling salts now?"

"Did you find any?"

"Nah, but I'm sure you'd could concoct something just as awful," Neon said. Jinx started chewing on his lip. They might as well leave him. If they waited much longer they would miss their window of opportunity. What could he possibly be working on that would keep him so thoroughly immersed? Jinx sidled up along the bed until he was standing against the wall and looking over Odin's shoulder. He blinked and leaned in closer, Neon coming up behind him.

"What is… that?" Jinx whispered, feeling his eyes hurt from staring at the wild symbols slowly decrypting and recrypting themselves on screen. He had meant to ask Neon who was squinting over his shoulder, but it was Odin who reacted.

He almost jumped out of his skin at finding two people leaning over his shoulder where he was sure there had been none before. He mentally swore, fluently and in several languages, at allowing anyone to sneak up upon him. He would end up dead if he kept doing that. He sat up, hastily trying to shut down the computer down. Who did they think they were? They had no right to look at any of this. It was his; it was private, and it technically illegal. 

"You, you weren't just hacking?" asked Jinx, his eyes still bugging out of his head. Odin glared briefly through his bangs and continued stashing the machinery under his pillow.

"Yes," he said shortly, daring them to say anything. Jinx shook his head quickly at Odin's defensive answer.

"No, no its great, fine, won't say a word! Its just, well I, uh we, just didn't know you could do something other, then… ah," he gulped nervously and Neon slapped the back of his head, muttering idiot. Odin straightened and turned his full attention on them, his bearing suddenly more cold then they had seen it in some time.

"Other than what?" he whispered in his old blank monotone. Jinx suddenly wanted to swallow his tongue. Surprisingly there was no glare directed at him. Only a blank stare demanding that he finish his sentence. He was very grateful when Neon stepped in to save him.

"Come on man, anybody who spent much time on the streets would recognize you as dangerous. You practically scream professional killer when ya move." diplomacy had never been one of Neon's strong points. He had never had any use for it and since he figured that the only people who would be duped by subtlety couldn't be that smart in the first place, he thought it an insult to ones intelligence. A bit backward thinking maybe, Jinx thought, but then almost everything about Neon was backward in some way. Odin's demeanor softened.

"No," he said a little bit of sorrow sneaking into his voice without his consent. "That's not all I can do." None of them said anything for a time, until Neon glanced at the clock on the wall and swore. He grabbed his jacket from his bed and snapped at Jinx.

"Move it, we're gonna miss our exit!" Jinx took a quick look at the clock and hurried to put on his shoes. He was in such a hurry that he kept fumbling with the laces and losing his knot. He didn't look up from his feet while he spoke to Odin,

"We're going Den hiding tonight, if you want to come," he said. He finally managed to tie his shoes and snatched his own coat off his bed. Odin didn't say anything, but he was waiting for them by the door when they finished grabbing shoes and jackets and they all slipped unnoticed out of the building.

~~~~~

They walked until they got to a transport stop and took the transit the rest of the way into the center of the city. The three walked down the streets, avoiding holograms, drunks and the places covered with warring gang graffiti. Odin couldn't stop looking around. He hadn't paid much attention to the city he was drifting through before the police had found him and he indulged himself in really looking at everything around him. Rather then just noting as much, and as quickly, as possible on his surroundings for future sabotage or escape, now he took the opportunity to stare at all he had missed. 

A huge clock tower with a glowing time face rose up to their right. Towering over them, it boomed out the hour in a stately voice. Above them numerous vehicle ramps and pedestrian walkways crisscrossed back and forth in multiple layers. Going from one lofty building to another and winding their way through the city. Lights came from everywhere, people and holograms vying for attention and calling out their wares. An old woman tried to sell them some of the bracelets, watches and other miscellaneous pieces of metal that were hanging along the inside of her trench coat. A large view screen over head was giving the news on the latest murder. Two young gossips stood just below it, trading theories back and forth. 

Jinx was in front trying to hurry the other two up. Neon was stumbling along and grumbling for him to give a lame man some peace, or a new leg. Odin was almost walking backwards trying to take in everything at once and Jinx was close to hopping up and down with impatience. Odin looked over at one of the graffiti covered walls that they passed. It seemed to be a border of territory. The gang symbols on the buildings battling for domination. 

Eventually they reached their destination. A small alley opening with a large man sitting casually on an iron stool, smoking a joint. His legs were stretched across the archway with his feet propped up against the far wall, blocking their way. He wore dark clothes and a broad rimmed hat that hid his face in shadows, but did nothing to conceal the bulging muscles that made up the rest of him. 

With out a word or any sign of alarm Jinx cheerfully approached the intimidating figure. Odin followed closely in case things went sour, with Neon slightly behind. Jinx walked right up to the large figure and swept the man's hat off his head, placing it on his own. A very bald young man with a hard face looked back at them. Odin relaxed in recognition and stepped out of his ready stance, but he did not ease off completely. 

Borg grinned at Jinx and made a grab for his hat. Jinx promptly danced out of reach in a somewhat comical fashion, the hat still on his head and falling into his eyes as it was much to big for him.

"What's with the hat Borg?" Jinx laughed. Borg growled playfully and made another lunge for Jinx.

"It keeps my head warm. Now give it back ya little punk." Jinx slipped that hat off and plopped it unceremoniously on Borg's head in mid lunge. Borg straightened up and fixed his hat.

"Com'in down for a little fun Jinx-boy?" He asked, crossing his arms over his expansive chest and looking down at the three boys. "Now you know it's not legal for me to let you in, being minors and all," he mock glared at them. 

"Well then I guess you shouldn't tell anyone," Jinx joked back. Borg nodded and looked the three of them over. Jinx and Neon he was familiar with, both dressed in their usual style. Neon's clothes practically glowing in the dark and Jinx in his normal dark, faded colors. People here knew them and that they were not to be played with. The other boy he'd only met once, but remembered well. His appearance said nothing, just a plain white tank top and pocket-covered jeans over a slim frame. It was the way he held himself that proclaimed him a hazardous target. Borg nodded, 

"I get off in an hour or so, I'll see you inside," he said to Jinx. He jerked his head in the direction of the alley behind him and let them by. Jinx gave him a thumbs up and led the way through the archway. About halfway down the alley he and Neon stopped and crouched down by a manhole. There was a thick haze and smoky stench coming up through holes in the metal cover along with muted booming sounds. Neon stuck his fingers in a few of the holes and lifted the lid. Music, smoke and light burst forth from the opened manhole and the three of them slipped through the hole, the last closing the lid behind him.

A myriad of sights, sounds and smells assaulted Odin's senses. He stood still on the ladder patiently waiting for his highly sensitive ears, nose and eyes to adjust to the chaos. Below him was a large coliseum like room. A mass of bodies writhed in time to the heart pounding music that blared through speakers on the walls. The light didn't seem quite right. Eyes, skin and clothing glowed under the black lights that hung from the ceiling beneath the street. Every once in awhile a support jutting out from a wall would blink on and send laser beams skittering through the crowd. 

The smells were more mixed than should be possible in one place. Odin was able to identify the stench of sweat, frying meat, several different air-born narcotics and alcoholic drinks, some of which smelled sweet, others almost rank. There were male smells and female smells. Then there were the smells he could only begin to guess at. He nearly choked from the smoke and odors that were crowding his lungs. Near the ceiling it was all more condensed before the smog went out of the holes in the roof under the street and out to the night air.

Jinx tugged on his ankle and Odin slid the rest of the way down the ladder into the undulating crowd of bodies. Jinx took a firm hold on his arm and dragged him through the dancing throng to one of the back walls. He shouted something but Odin was unable to hear anything besides the pounding of the music. Jinx stopped after a moment, realizing this. Odin shook his head, gesturing for him to continue and that he could read lips. Jinx grinned and told him that this was only the main room of the Den, known as the Dance House.

He pointed to two different archways leading out of the circular room. The one straight ahead from the ladder went to the Spirits House and the one to the left of that was called the Play House. The Play House was full of entertainments other than dancing and the Spirits House was the official place for liquor. Jinx mouthed that he and Neon were headed for the Spirits House. Odin nodded and followed, not sure what he should do first.

People danced in the Spirits House too, but it was a far more drunken form. There was a large circular fire pit in the middle of the room. Many people were lolling about in the heat around it. An immense slab of meat was impaled on a spike over the flames and turning slowly, giving off a sizzling sound as the meat cooked and dripped fat onto the embers. Odin neatly stepped around the few drunken idiots who had passed out this early in the evening. He didn't really intend to ingest anything, drug or alcohol. Upon entering this place his eyes had honed in on the assorted unsavory characters that were lounging around doing business or just enjoying themselves. Odin found Jinx and Neon who had each gotten themselves a beer. He motioned that he was headed for the Play House and walked out. 

He got held up in the Dance House. Every way he moved to he got turned around the other direction. He tried to wiggle his way past several people and ended up caught in the middle. It was very warm down here. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration and just stopped moving. He noticed that even when he wasn't moving on purpose every one around was still carrying him onward with them. He closed his eyes, feeling every other body moving in a rhythmic dance around him and himself being pulled along.

He opened his eyes. Why not? Wasn't that the whole point of this excursion? To do and experience something completely new? To experiment with new circumstances and sensations. He looked around him, watching how they moved and swayed and bounced. Some people just flopped about, letting the music take them where it would. Others made more willful movements, winding back and forth like glowing ropes of human flesh. One of the women to his right was far more flexible then most and made full use of the ability. 

Cautiously at first he followed some of her movements. He released the breath he had been holding and let himself fall into the rhythm. The woman he was following caught site of him and smiled. Then she did a more complex move and twist that would have been painful for most people. He paused, then copied and at the end issued his own little challenge. And so it began. He moved and twined; sinuous and winding like a serpent. He moved faster and faster as the beat picked up. Pounding the throb and cadence through his blood. Somebody had been lifted up above the crowd and was being passed from hand to hand. With a jubilant shout the figure howled

"Dance, dance until you die!" And so he danced.

****

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	12. Fire Burn & Cauldron Bubble

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Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of the characters or references. I do own the original characters, their mine you here me? (Insane laugh in the back round.)

Notes: Here we go, oh look the plot finally started. I don't have a preference as to what you call Heero in the reviews, it's not that important. As for Wufei, I did say why he's looking for Odin, or at least a hint of it. I will be explaining it more, but not until about chapter seventeen or so. Any critique's you guys have would be great; I always love feedback, and don't tell me it's perfect be cause it's not.

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Chapter Twelve

(Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble)

There was definitely something in the air Odin decided as he collapsed backward onto a pile of cushions in the Play House. Something that hadn't made it completely out of the smoke holes and hung a bit lower in the air. He giggled and wondered if he would end up seeing pink elephants. He brought the back of his hand to his sweaty forehead and watched the ceiling start to slow down. It was still moving in the dancing rhythm he'd just been in, but it was definitely slowing down. 

Once the ceiling had ground to a halt he let his head flop to the side to see where he had landed. He was lying next to the archway just inside the Play House. There were two figures on the pillows to his right that were squirming about and trying to swallow each other's faces. The light in here was very uneven. There was a fickle luminescence coming from the archway that led to the Dance House, but other than that and the glow numerous screens placed haphazardly about the room, it was completely black. He could see people moving about the floating screens and near the arched doorway. Between the glows there was only darkness with a vague sense of movement in the gloom.

He watched the glowing lights for some time and the more he watched the stranger they behaved. They would expand and contract and sometimes he could see little faces in them. The light faces were very distorted and would stretch and meld into each other. They all seemed to be laughing at him. Or was it the people next to him, or maybe lights were tittering at each other. He giggled back at them, too softly to be heard by anyone else.

Odin reluctantly turned his face away from the delightful lights when he felt someone crouch down next to him. He would have turned over if he could but it seemed that the minute he had fallen down all his strength abandoned him. His limbs felt as heavy as lead and full of water. So he flopped his head in the someone's direction and stared at their boots. Big thick boots. He blinked and stared harder, wondering why they seemed familiar and why they kept grinning and splitting into two pairs and back again.

A large hand came into view and reached for his face. Odin tried to lean back out of range but he was already on the floor, or was it the ceiling? So he couldn't go very far and the hand had a longer grasp. It slid around the back of his head and lifted his face up enough so that he could see who had him in their clutches. Oh, I know you, he thought. It took more work then usual. His mind was in a daze and refused to function properly. Preferring instead to drift about with no direction, following random whims of thought. Finally he achieved enough coherence in his brain to say

"Your boots are moving." 

"I bet they are," Borg chuckled and laid the kids head down gently. "I'll be back," he said and hurried off. He returned soon with a cup of water and helped Odin to sit up. He hauled the kid into a sitting position and leaned him against the wall. Then he held the mug to his mouth, making sure that the kid didn't dribble as he gulped down the needed liquid. He could tell the kid was trying desperately to focus on something, but he just couldn't seem to do it, at least not yet. 

Borg tried to ask him where he had been dancing and after a few tries he got enough of an answer to piece together what happened. He was right, Jinx's new friend wasn't the type to go and waste himself right off. He must have been dancing near those idiots who decided to do things cafeteria style. They'd been so trashed they thought it would be funny to set fire to several different drugs and see what happened. They went boom was what happened and everybody in close range got a nice heavy measure of mixed dope.

Borg nodded to himself and stayed with the kid for a bit. He must have a pretty good tolerance if he was still conscious. Who knew how the other people had turned out. It was good thing the kid had gotten into one of the other Houses, if he'd fallen in the Dance House he might never have been found. Looking around at all the entertainment's a nice idea came to Borg.

"Come on," he said and pulled the kid to his feet. He wobbled a little but managed to stay standing, a good sign. Borg pulled the kid over to one of the VRs and slid the Optical Receiver over his head. The kid brought his hand up to the shield that covered his eyes and turned his unexpectedly blind face to Borg.

"Wha…"

"I think you'll like this, and it'll keep ya busy till the high wears thin," Borg said. He took the kids hands and pulled the long gloves and armbands on him. He stuck the gloved hands into the hoof like palm controls and touched a button on the side of the Optic Receiver. A bright length of energy extended itself from the side of the Receiver, and forming itself into a resemblance of several wires, attached itself to the screen in front of the kid. The screen blinked on and an identical image could be seen beneath the visor like Receiver in front of Odin's eyes. The kid relaxed a little and Borg tightened the strap on the back of his head so the Receiver wouldn't fall off while the kid made his selection. 

Odin chose where he wanted the VR to take him and waited. What happened next was an unpleasant shock. From the device around his eyes two little nodes attached themselves to his temples and started sending out little cybernetic waves. Odin sucked in a breath at the sudden jolt of electronic signals rushing into his head. They were everywhere. He could feel them, like bugs, bugs crawling through his brain. Skittering here and there with tiny legs brushing against his thoughts. 

His breath came faster and faster as he started to hyperventilate. He tried to bring his hands up to tear the visor off his head but they were encased in metal blocks and he couldn't bring his fingers out. It was like the Zero, and yet it wasn't. It wasn't painful like Zero had been. They felt like insects swarming about inside. Instead of hooks splitting his mind open with rips that left him screaming, but that did nothing to quell the rising panic. They were looking for something, oh god, get OUT!

Then it was over. They found what they were looking for and he was plunged into a void. At first that was all there was, black and a small sense of vertigo at the sudden of the absence of things. The noise, the booming music from the Dance House, the yelling and the babble of conversation were gone. The smells of the houses were missing to, as were the constant press of bodies moving about him. All of it was gone. It seemed even his clothes were missing. Replaced by a skintight suit, and that felt like a helmet on his head. He realized the reason everything was dark was because his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. So with a great deal of caution he started to pull them open. He blinked and reminded himself to breathe.

He stood completely still, his feet magnetically clamped to the colony beneath him. The metal ring of the colony stretched away from him on all sides. Like a long gray plain spreading far into the distance. He was unable to see around or below it, but above. Above, the globe of Earth hung in all its glory, full of swirling blues and whites with little bits of brown mixed between. And above that lay the vast expanse of outer space itself, reaching far, far beyond the scope of the human mind. 

Odin tilted his head back as far as it could go, staring wide eyed at the universe around him. He was submerged in a sea of stars. The only sound to be heard was his own quiet breathing filling his helmet. So quiet, a relief after the continuous chatter and jabbering of the Earth. The air being recycled inside his helmet was clean, without the faintest sent of the reeking smog he had gotten accustomed to inside the Den. 

It was amazing how close they had come to recreating the beauty of space, but he could still tell the difference. He might be the only one in the whole of humanity who could, but it was there. Just little things he could notice. The absence of a slightly metallic scent to the recycled air. The feeling in your heart and guts at seeing something so much _more_, than you. Little things. They had come very close though.

How long he stood gazing at the stars he didn't know. Eventually he reached down, and pulling the tether from his belt he attached it to a holding ring on the colony surface. Then he disengaged the magnets in his boots and floated into space. There was a slight jerk when he came to the end of his tether. He considered for a moment, reminding himself that this was only a game. He touched his fingers to his belt and let the tether go. He did not move about or try to steer, just let himself float away. Drifting through infinity with a calm he had not felt in so long. I have missed this, he said to himself. Not even his thoughts daring to come above a whisper lest he inadvertently shatter this blessed moment of peace. 

~~~~~

Borg had left as soon as the kid settled down. For a second there he had thought he was going to rip the thing out of his head. He went to get himself a drink and headed for the spot in the Spirits House were he was supposed to meet up with his brother. They didn't look anything alike of course. They weren't blood relations, but they were brothers none the less. Brothers of the underworld. 

Borg found him lounging on top of one the back counters with a squirming girl in his lap. He was talking to a lady with a glazed expression that was standing by his shoulder and nervously fingering with the edge of tiny her dress. Borg waited until his brother completed the deal he was haggling with a glassy eyed woman. The lady handed over a wad of cash and stuffed the little palm-sized packet he handed her into her the front of her bra. Borg chuckled, as if sticking it in there would keep anyone from going after it. 

His friend winked at him, then turned his head back to the girl in his lap and proceeded to enjoy himself, pausing every now and then to pull some smoke from a freshly rolled joint. Borg shook his head and took the joint from his hand. He leaned against the counter and took a long drag.

"Scead,"

"Borg,"

"Ya know it's fucking dumb to be smoking on the job." Borg sucked in another breath and blew the smoke out his nose. Scead gave his friend a smirk around the mouth he was kissing but otherwise ignored him. He ran his gloved hands up and down her sides. Scead always wore gloves, brown ones with the word 'pain' dyed in white onto each one. Borg snorted and shook his head at his friend, who just continued on with the girl. Eventually she disengaged saying,

"I gotta go to work Hon, but thanks for the present." She hopped off his lap and sauntered into the crowd, Scead's eyes following her swaying hips all the way. Borg rounded on the other man,

"Present? What the fucking hell on earth and space do you think you're do'in!" Scead sat up properly on the counter and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"Don't bitch your ass off. She always pays when she's got the money." Borg breathed in the last of the joint and threw it to the ground, crushing the ash beneath his heel. 

"And when she doesn't? Shit man, you're in enough trouble and this ain't going to impress the big man." His friend ignored him and reached into his pocket for another joint. Borg reached out and tapped a finger on his friend's inside arm. Scead flinched and withdrew his arm, kicking Borg in the shoulder and fixing his sleeve over his forearm. "You've been cranking up again, I can tell," Borg said and eyed his friend from beneath his hat. Scead was a tall man, lean but muscled. His eyes were set deep into his head and combined with his high cheekbones it gave his face a very sunken look. He was pale, with dirty blond hair sticking out of his scalp. Not one of the most attractive of men and even Borg, who certainly wasn't clean or sober, could see why the little hussy had been in such an intimate position with him.

"Relax bro," Scead said, blowing smoke into the air. "It's an advertisement, lets the fuckers who are interested know we got the stuff to sell." Borg snorted and took a large gulp from his drink. Which had lain forgotten on the counter while he had a smoke in his hand. It was an advertisement all right… 

He was about to try and raise the subject again when a greasy rat of a person plunged through the crowd and started jabbering at them at high speed with out stopping for breath. Scead squinted, trying to make out what the rodent like man was saying. After a few seconds he gave up and motioned to Borg. Borg reached out and clamped a heavy hand around the skinny throat, pressing inward gently and raising the babbling man out of his slouch. He quieted immediately.

"Say again, G," Borg ordered, smiling a menacing smile to show all his teeth. His captive gulped and nodded, then began to repeat himself much slower.

"Here," he squeaked out, " he, he's here, the guy, I mean the kid guy, I mean the kid who's here, I, I mean," 

"What," Scead interrupted, using his most contemptuous tone of voice, "the fucking, hell are you babbling about?" the little man gulped again and Borg squeezed a little harder.

"The, the k, kid. The one ya wanted me to find a, at Christmas, the one who killed Abe and the others…" Scead's amused face went very still. His eyes narrowed and his lip curled into a sneer. He brought the joint he had been smoking down onto the counter and ground it into the metal tabletop. 

Then he lunged forward. Borg released the small fellow so Scead could grab him by the collar of his shirt. He brought him up till they were nose to nose and purposefully breathed his reeking breath into the rat mans face. 

"You're sure about this?" he asked. The man nodded vigorously.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, ah I saw him good, I'd recognize tha, that guy anywhere!" He insisted, trying to turn his head away from the stench of Scead's breath. 

"Show me," Scead hissed. The man nodded and pointed in the direction he'd come. Scead leaped off the counter and hauled the man after him, with Borg following in his wake. 

"Don't do anything fucking stupid, there's to many people here," Borg said to the back of his friends head. Scead nodded 

"Nothing stupid," he assured. They left the Spirits House and wormed their way through the dancers to the Play House archway. They stopped just inside and their captive pointed ahead to a chocolate haired youth immersed in a VR. Borg's shoulders slumped 

"Ah, shit," he said to himself. Scead glanced over at him, then back at the kid.

"Ah shit is right," he said. "Dead shit." 

~~~~~

The evening was a wild affair. The VR lasted long enough for Odin to regain enough of his senses that he wouldn't accidentally injure himself. Neon and Jinx met up with him later, both slightly tipsy from drink and sweaty from dancing. The threesome roved through the crowds, taking part in what ever struck there fancy. Neon commented that he thought Odin was more fun with his brain loose. Jinx conned a man out of fifty with one of his card tricks and they disappeared into the throng before he could realize he had been tricked. They had to pick their way past a small orgy in one of the back corners; none of them really interested in falling into that pit. Odin found that the houses were in fact much bigger then they appeared and Jinx assured him that this was only a lesser Den. Some of the larger ones could be five times as big as this.

At one point they found a pair of decorators in the back of the Play House. There was a woman lying on her stomach almost completely naked getting a tattoo of rose vines up her entire side. They all agreed to pool their small stash of money to get some decoration. The fifty Jinx had conned out of the passing man wasn't quite enough. Jinx and Neon both wanted to do something. Odin was hesitant, but Neon insisted that if he was going to help pay he had to get something done. Jinx agreed and the two of them, aided by drink and whatever he had unintentionally inhaled got Odin into a chair with a single earring stud picked out. The stud was small and flat, and looked like several thorns pointing outwards in a circle.

Jinx chose a witch's pentagram tattoo to go between his shoulder blades. Odin watched Jinx take a long swig from the bottle in his hand and his face screw up in pain as the woman with the ink stabber started on his back. Neon had his head in a bubbling vat, with just an inch or two of his of his bright orange hair touching the liquid. Odin barely felt the earring stab through his left ear, his attention riveted on the other two and the eyes he could feel boring into his back. 

The feeling continued all night, through dancing, drinks and food. Every time he would turn around to catch whoever was following him all he could see was the mob. Not a face would stand out. In the Dance House they followed him, in the Spirits House and the Play House. Where ever he went, they never lost track of him. Even through the fight that broke out later on. 

He kept himself and the others out of the shadows, keeping his eyes and ears open, but a Den is an impossible place to ignore from the interior. It's how they are designed. Nearly invisible from the outside, often mind blowing on the inside. So all he really felt capable of at this point was to go along with the flow. Just as if he had fallen into a river, you can resist for awhile but inevitably your strength will give out and the current will carry you along to your final resting-place. It is said that people have been lost in Dens and no bodies ever found. It is not a place for the weak-minded. 

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	13. Looking Glass

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Disclaimer: I don't own anything thing from Gundam Wing. I am poor, penniless college student , please don't hurt me.

Notes: Some of you seem confused in your reviews (hint to me, I actually got a review saying, "I'm confused") It would help if you could tell me what you're confused about.

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Chapter Thirteen

(Looking Glass)

He woke up on the floor, flat on his back with an aching headache. The pain was the first thing to receive his attention. That throbbing feeling in his skull stating he'd just fallen on his head. He noticed his fingers next, buried under a pile of small solid shapes. There was a cube by his thumb, a diamond shape, pyramids and others that were far more round, all of them smooth and covered in tiny engravings. He opened his eyes in confusion. Dice, Jinx's dice had fallen on the floor and covered his hand.

He pulled himself up into a sitting position and brought his other hand to his head. He realized that his breath was coming in gasps and his heart was beating hard enough he felt like it was going to push right out of his chest. His thoughts and movements were coming much slower then usual. He could only manage to bring himself together one sense at a time. 

It was cold in here and no lights were lit. He wrapped his arms around himself when a night breeze flew through the darkened room. There shouldn't be any draughts; the window was closed. He looked up to confirm this thought and gulped. The window of the shared room was smashed. A gaping hole with ragged edges of broken glass was all that was left of the windowpane. A wind whistled through the opening, bringing in a light drizzle of rain and causing the curtains to lift and billow outward like a lady's skirts. Outside on the roof, Jinx's nightstand lay on its side with the rain pattering against the wood and shattered glass surrounding it. 

Odin gulped and blundered to his feet, and the rest of the scene grew clearer before his waking eyes. Jinx and Neon stood in opposite corners of the room, as far away from him as they could get. Ethan was leaning unsteadily against the wall by the window and clutching his right arm. Even in the dim light from the open window he could see Ethan was pale and the lower part of his forearm hung at an odd angle. Both bones snapped above the wrist and looking like a second joint. 

Odin backed away, his eyes locked with Ethan's. The silence was like a portly mans massive belly that took up all the room and was heavy enough to push you to the floor with its weight. He could feel it weighing him down already. His back hit the door and his hand fumbled about for the knob. He could smell the fear in that room, a stale and unpleasant stench. The urge to run increased, to run and not look back, so he wouldn't have to see that look in their eyes. The poorly concealed looks of dread that are given to a bedtime monster come to life.

His hand found the object of its search. The door swung open behind him and he fled. There was no coherent thought in his head as he escaped through the maze of halls and rooms within rooms about the orphanage. He moved on pure instinct, no thought of where he was going or what to do when he got there, only the need flee from something he couldn't fight, the undeniable evidence of the monstrosity he was.

He slid to a halt in a windowed hall on the first story. The sound of feet pounding on the ceilings above and through the walls of his own level was loud in his ears. They were looking for him. He must have screamed again; they said he always screamed. He whipped his head around in search of a hiding place. The hall was bare except for the full-length windows that made up the left wall. They stretched from floor to ceiling and each had curtains drawn across them. No time to think, he could hear them getting closer. 

He slipped himself between the curtains and the glass panes of one window, pulling his knees to his chest and scrunching into a corner of the window frame to present a less noticeable target. He heard someone enter the hall and concentrated on remaining perfectly still and keeping his breathing shallow. A pair of footsteps entered the hall, came closer and closer. They searched through the corridor, then passed, walking quickly out of the hall to meet another pair beyond.

He sat there for a long time curled up on himself, waiting while the noise of the search became quieter, until silence once again reigned in the building. Only then did he let the tension drain from his muscles and allow a long sigh to escape his lips. He uncurled his legs and let his head fall against the glass with a soft thud. He was tired, but he knew he would get no more sleep tonight. 

His legs ached from being curled up too long and his head was no better, but it was his heart that hurt the most. A deep pain that went all they way through to the core. What have I done? He wondered. He felt himself bleeding from the inside out. The glass was cold and real against his forehead. It served as a solid thing to keep him anchored above himself. He was sure that without it he would fall and drown in the muck of his own psyche. 

He hated these nights, hated them a with such an intensity he could frighten himself. He hated what the nightmares did to him. He hated what they made him do to others. He hated the fact that he couldn't remember what they were and hated even more that in some deeper way they did make him remember.

He lifted his head from the glass and stared at his reflection. He brought his fingers up and gently touched the face in the window. It was pale face, smooth and still. It looked more ghostlike then any living thing. For surely nothing living could be so, blank, and still. There was small crease between the eyebrows that made it look as if the face always wore a vague frown, but he was not frowning. Stone had more expression then that face revealed. It gave no hint of the turmoil within. Raindrops splashed against the person in the glass and ran down the windowpane in long rivulets.

He pulled his mouth wide and opened his lips to show his teeth. It was a poor imitation of a smile at best, at worst a gross transgression of nature. He tried another expression, sad this time. Trembling lip and lidded eyes, but it made no difference. The most he could accomplish was a small hint. The odd feeling in his gut increased, he felt sick at himself. Why can't I… make a face? 

He turned himself completely around to face the glass. He could have sworn he was looking at someone else. Some stranger who had come to stand outside the window and was looking in at him. The difference between them was too broad to be one person. He ran his fingers across the glass, tracing the familiar shape of the window boy's face.

"Who are you?" he whispered. His breath fogged against the window hiding the other face from view. He hurt so much; he wanted to do something. Something other than to dully stare at that thing in the glass. He wanted to let loose and give voice to the bloody river of grief within. He wanted to wail and sob and mourn, but he had nothing left to weep with. He had used up all his tears and ran out of water before he ran out of sorrow. 

He breathed on the window and ran a forefinger up the clouded glass, collecting the condensation on his finger. He carefully lifted the precious bead of water and brought it to his eye. Then with deliberate slowness, ran the droplet down his cheek with the wet finger. He collected another drop of water from the window and drew another tear track down his other cheek. The rest of the fog on the window faded away and that strange boy reappeared, this time with tears running down his face. He leaned in until their noses were touching and glared daggers at the identical boy.

"I hate you," he hissed. The youth in the window mouthed the words back at him when he spoke, but made no other sign of feeling. _Will I ever be rid of you?_ He wondered at the other boy. His eyes widened as the boy in the window smiled a false smile and shook his head. Odin scrunched his tired eyes closed and firmly shook his head back and forth to dispel the vision. He was not seeing things again, he was not seeing things again, he was not seeing things again. 

What the hell is _wrong_ with me! He thought. That mirror face wasn't the only thing disturbing him. Something had moved deep inside him. Way, way down some _thing_ had shifted in its place. He could feel it down below, beneath the surface, beginning to move. Like some great beast beginning to wake. Or a leviathan, swishing its tail and churning up the waves. He knew the feeling well. Knew it from past experience. Knew that the little accidents that had happened up till now would be nothing if that thing awoke from its sleep. It frightened him, almost terrified him at times. That beast that slept down deep inside. 

I've been here too long, he told himself. I have to leave. He stood up and slipped through the seam between the curtains, his mind already whirling with plans of escape. Unfortunately he discovered to late that he was not alone in the hall. As soon as he left the safety of the curtains he walked straight into Anna. The two looked at each other in surprise and all he could think was, _damn_… 

"Odin, thank god I've been worried sick!" he bowed his head and resigned himself to his immediate fate. Anna pulled him into a fierce hug, forgetting for a moment that he hated that. "We didn't know what had happened to you."

"I'm fine," he grunted and shoved her away. Anna checked herself from casually touching him again and shook her head,

"Silly boy, you weren't thinking of running were you," she whispered. She looked at him, taking in his wet cheeks and empty face. "Odin, have you been crying?" He snorted and shook his head. I only wish, he thought. He turned away from her and pulled one of the curtains partly open. Holding up the cloth with one hand and touching the stranger in the glass with the other. The rain had gotten heavier and was now coming down in solid sheets, turning the ground to mud. He wondered how Ethan was doing, he hoped he would be all right. He had to do all the hoping he could because that boy in the glass, who had stolen his face, couldn't care less. It was strange really; he hated and envied that boy. It would be nice to be so stable. He went up and down, up and down, trying to endure through emotions that would seethe like a gale and then become as calm as the doldrums. That boy in the window, he never changed.

"I have to leave," he said. He watched Anna's reflection come up behind him. "I want to stay, but I can't." he turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. Hoping against hope that something would make it through the face that wasn't his, something to help her understand, no such luck.

"Don't say can't, I hate that word, it's just an easy way out." Her voice was sharp and laced with hurt. Why should she be hurt, he was leaving, she should be happy. "That's what this is isn't it, the easy way. That's what you do when things get hard, run away and pretend it didn't happen. Do you honestly think you'll be any better off if you leave." 

"I'm no coward, it's more complicated then that," Odin growled.

"Then enlighten me!" she snapped back. Odin threw his arm in the direction of his room.

"I've already attacked Ethan, who do you want to be next, you, Jinx… Caltha? I can assure you there will be a next! There's always a next." He turned back to the window. He wanted to explain, to warn her, but he was reluctant to mention the boy in the glass. "I'm not safe," he said. Anna sighed,

"Here," she said and reached up to wipe the tear streaks off his face. He jerked his head away from her fingers.

"No, leave them," when she didn't withdraw he added "please." Anna shook her head at him and dropped her hand into her lap.

"Odin, what happened with Ethan was an accident, you didn't do it on purpose," she said. "Ethan knows that. You shouldn't isolate yourself from humanity just because you might accidentally hurt someone."

"I broke his arm, it doesn't matter if it was an accident or not," he whispered. 

"Yes, it does. Running away from people isn't the answer; you'll be running all your life. This isn't something that will just go away if you ignore it long enough. Besides," she smiled "We'd miss you an awful lot." Odin stared down at his knees and just shook his head again and again.

"I can't be around people, every one I get near gets hurt." Anna cupped his face with both hands and made him look at her.

"Maybe you just haven't found the right people yet." Odin blinked and seemed to consider this. Anna released his face and confronted the window, wondering what fascinated him so about it, it looked liked any ordinary glass to her. Odin had turned his away from her and the two stood watching the rain patter against the window. She hummed an old lullaby her mother used to sing, a soft and nimble tune and reached up to pet his hair, which he tolerated. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	14. Cogito, Ergo, Sum, Cogito

+

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, nor any of its characters or references.

Notes: EEEK… my chapter got erased! Goshdarnbeefwittednoisomepidgeonliverdpratinggoatishbeetleheadedcozeningmoonlings! Now, ummmm, I don't remember if I said something important in my notes, I think I did… Oh well, I'll remember it eventually… maybe… Oh, yes! ^_^ When in doubt look at the title. The meaning of _Cogito,Ergo, Sum, Cogito_ is _I think, therefore I am, I think_. Sound familiar anyone?

****

Chapter Fourteen

(Cogito, Ergo Sum, Cogito)

"Went down to Satan's kitchen, for to get me food one mornin', and there I got souls pip'in 'ot. They were on the spit a turnin'. Still I sing bonny boys, bonny mad boys, Bedlam boys are bonny. For they all go bare an they live by the air an they want no drink nor money." Though impressive at first sight the hologram quickly lost its glamour when you heard it speak. When it began to sing it received one of two reactions. People would hurry away looking very disturbed, whispering and searching for a proper authority. Or they would stare, grin and sometimes laugh. Commenting to each other that if someone programmed their Holo to sing you would think that they would give it a better voice. Phineus did not have a terribly good singing voice. It was a rough baritone that often cracked and split in the middle of the verse. 

The two companions had stopped for a rest in their long trek through the city. They were on a ledge halfway down an old river trench. The water was running high and fast, full of the melted snows rushing to the sea. The place was made of metal and cement and strangely bare of the graffiti that usually covered such places. A large bridge stretched above them across the gray ditch and they stayed a respectful distance away from the mortar columns that held it up. From where he sat on the workman's ledge Wufei could see the iron symbols nailed onto the columns. Twining lines and old runes blending in and out of each other, proclaiming this place to be in a cult's territory. The city had many cults living in the corners, none of which were to be taken lightly.

Phineus's voice echoed through the trench, the sound bouncing back from the empty walls and under the bridge. The clashing noises of traffic and people chattering, shouting and whining were far above them and did not interfere with the broken melody rebounding through the giant gutter. Phineus stood lookout, methodically turning his attention from north to east to south to west and back again. Wufei sat leaning against the cement wall and looked up at the Holo. 

It was dusk and the sky was burning with reds, gold's and purples. The setting sun turned the whole city crimson, and the fiery glow shining through Phineus made the Holo look like a red ghost in the waning light. Wufei's face was very calm, belying how very much the Hologram disturbed him. On its' good days the Holo could seem very human, on others it was more of an automaton, and very mechanical. Yet the more time he was forced to spend with Phineus in his search, the more he suspected there was more to this thing then met the eye, much, much more. 

Can a machine actually think? That is the whole premise behind a working artificial intelligence, but can such an intelligence simply appear out of nowhere? Holograms were not designed with attributes of consciousness in mind, so where did this thought come from, if thought it was? 

He had seen Phineus use logic and reason, however, the simple act of thinking was not what disturbed him. What worried him was how this phenomenon had come about. He could not deny what his very eyes told him was true. Phineus could, and did think. What plagued his mind every day he spent in the Holo's company, was _how_ it thought. How this mind had come into being and how it worked. Had this mind simply awoken and thrived, or was it specifically created and taught as humans were. The idea that an intelligence could simply, _start_ in some way and then be left on it's own, was a frightening concept. A mind that was left all by it's self to absorb any knowledge it discovered and draw its own conclusions, a mind with no parent or mentor to guide it. Would it think like most, would it think like a moral human? Or would it think in an entirely different way? After all, a madman can still think. 

"My, staff 'as murdered giant's, an me pack a long knife carries. For to cut mince pies from children's thighs, for which to feed the fairies." Wufei stared at Phineus's profile; he could see the outlines of the channel through the frock coat and the scarlet light of dusk filtering through the image onto the ledge. The evening was dying, and the fluorescent lights of the city were replacing the natural glow. The song Phineus sang was full of mad things, what made the Holo choose that ditty?

"Still I sing bonny boy, bonny mad boys, bedlam boys are bonny. For they all go bare an they live by the air, an they want no drink nor money."

Society is made up of human ideas and human reasoning. Civilization is built from human dreams. Culture, laws, principles, even the concept of good and evil, right and wrong are all human notions on which we base the world we've made. In order to survive and thrive in our world you must, to a certain degree, think like the majority of the people. You must know that certain things are wrong and certain things are right. One who thinks completely out of the human perspective cannot live in harmony with those in power. The insane do not reason like others, do not live in their prospective and can be dangerous to those around them because of it. 

If Phineus did not think from the human viewpoint, then what? Would that make the Holo deranged, and even if it did not, would he be able to trust Phineus? Should he trust the Holo at all? Not knowing whether he should fear he was being led astray or not, he had no basis or reason for trusting this being. The closest things he could compare Phineus too, were the Gundams under the Zero system. Formidable and devastating machines that took hold of your mind and twisted it inside out. He knew Duo at least had thought of Epyon as some sort of demon, and perhaps Zero as well.

Now there was Phineus. What kind of creature was this? More than machine, not less then human, but different. Benevolent most certainly not, more likely out for it's own gain. Something it had learned from humans? Or something more. Phineus was full of shortcomings, not something done among holograms. The image was, of course, perfect. It was once you spent time with the Holo that you began to notice things like a horrible singing voice and bad puns, a spirit that was flawed, a person, and quite a character at that. There was an essence to Phineus, a vitality that, at times, made the Holo seem more alive then the humans around it.

"An when tha' I 'ave murdered the man in the moon to a powder. 'Is staff I'll break an 'is dog I'll shake, an there'll 'owl no demon louder." Wufei brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes in an attempt to hold a building headache. Thinking on such debatable subjects with out any food did not leave him feeling well. Though he suspected it was more the lack of dinner then the questions running around his head. Phineus's song was not helping either.

"Enough," he snapped. Phineus spun around on a heel and focused a biting stare on him and Wufei was struck by the sudden intensity of the look. The Holo sniffed and hung the cane on its arm while it pretended to brush off invisible dust from the frock coat. Phineus smoothed the goatee on its chin and said,

"Jus thought a li'le might lift our spiri's is all." Wufei pulled his pack up on his shoulder and started up the ladder out of the trench. Phineus simply disappeared, and then reappeared at the top. The sun was now completely below the horizon and the nightlife of the city was emerging from its cesspools, holes and hideaways. Soon there would be a whole new populace roaming the streets. Doing business or out for fun. Thieves, cutthroats, hookers, thugs, gangs and dealers. Of course this dirtier aspect of the city never really slept, but at night they came out in full force. Important politics and battles were fought out nightly. 

The two companions said little as they made their way generally north. Phineus had been leading him round about the city for several weeks. Through ground streets and walkways, tunnels and trams. He wasn't even sure if this was the same city that they had started in. Phineus insisted that they were following a trail. Sometimes the Holo would disappear for a few hours or a few days and then reappear and lead him off in a knew direction. Wufei was finding himself more and more reminded of the legend of the questing beast, or the beast glatisant, who was always one step ahead of her pursuers. It seemed his good comrade had either been of a mind much like the questing beast, or he was being led astray by a very clever Hologram. I suppose I am much like old king Pellinore, he thought. There is more to the searching than the finding. 

They stopped outside the front of an impressive corporate building. The walkway and vehicle ramp were joined in front of it, so that not only the walkers but also every one in cars and trams would have to see what an important place it was. The building made tasteful use of the most fashionable lights and architecture, but what held Wufei's attention was not any displays of wealth intended to impress. It was the vending machine. 

He leapt up the stairs to where the metal box sat beside the doors parading its store of packaged junk food and coffee, all of which looked far more appealing to a hungry stomach then they ever could have before. Phineus made apologies and disappeared, saying there was something that required attention. Wufei nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets, finding nothing but lint he shrugged the sack off his shoulder and searched everything he owned. He explored every pocket and hole there was, yet still came up empty.

He hung his head, dropping the empty sack onto the polished stone and fell out of his crouch. He did not care in what undignified position he landed or that all his worldly possessions were strewn across the top stair of some public building. He sat in a slight straddle with his legs bent and raised, resting his elbows on his knees. He kept his back turned to the machine with the wonderful looking food and concentrated on controlling his headache and cramps, which were getting steadily worse. It had been ten hours since his last meal. He didn't feel that he had the energy to get up or even put his things back in his pack.

A static fizzle announced Phineus's return. The Holo reappeared in the exact spot it had left and took out its pocket watch. Phineus tapped a thumb against the timepiece in step with the passing seconds. Satisfied, the Holo paused in its observation of the time and looked down at Wufei.

"I say there, yeh look a li'le peaked. Yeh could jus' give the box a good kick, I've seen plenty a blokes get a meal out of that," Phineus said. Wufei pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Because I have no money and I am no thief or beggar."

"Well, I suppose, bu' it's be'er than starvin' if yeh ask my opinion. Be'er alive an kickin' than dead an moral."

~~~~~

Tony paid for the two cups of coffee and walked back towards the car. He stopped in front of it and eyed the new dent in the front bumper. It was really more then a dent. The entire corner of the hood looked like a giant's fist had punched it in. A testament to the rough chase they'd had a few nights ago. The paint was pealing off, but at least it wasn't steaming. Tony shook his head and walked up to the driver's side window to hand a coffee to his partner. Gerry took the warm styrophone cup and gulped down a mouthful with out looking up. He was speaking to a prissy looking woman on the vidphone and wearing his official face. The one that said, 'yes mam, we are right on it mam, we are professional police officers mam and will help you in any way we can, even though we have more serious matters on our hands.' Tony chuckled and walked around to slide into the front passenger seat. Gerry nodded politely to the woman in the screen and shut it off, huffing through the new mustache he'd grown over the winter. Tony gave him a questioning look while they pulled out onto a ground street and headed for a higher ramp. 

"Apparently there's some kid loitering outside that big commercial building on Serpent 72. They say he looks unsanitary and could we please come and remove him from the premises," Gerry grumbled. Tony rolled his eyes at the stupid things people asked of them. They could tell the kid to clear off by themselves they didn't need an officer. He shook his head and looked out his window. 

The buildings down here were all old and crumbling. Paint and other bits of covering were peeling off the walls in large chunks, revealing the bare bricks or metal beams beneath. Down at ground level was were the weeds grew. Plants were strictly controlled higher up. Down here they sprouted where they would, vines and twisted trees helping hold up as many buildings as they split apart. 

The farther up and out they went from the center of the city the cleaner it got. Tony watched the scene change from the poor and unruly to the middle class and up on to the wealthy and successful. In the distance he could see the distinguishing shape of the building in question, growing ever larger in their windshield.

~~~~~

"I don't mean to be a nosy parker, but what was prayin' so 'eavily on yor mind this even'in. I don' get people pay'in notice to me often, an when I do it don't usually bode well." Wufei looked up from the front steps of the building to where Phineus stood on his right. The Hologram had its back turned, contemplating the maze of city lights and still holding the pocket watch in one hand. He found it interesting to notice that while he could see through the Hologram he could not see its face through the head, just a semitransparent hat and the back of the neck. So neither could he see the expression of his companion, something that seemed planned in the way it stood. There was a force to the voice of the image that stressed the importance of the question. 

"I noticed that you refer to yourself as 'I' and 'me', in the singular, as in an individual. That has…implications." Wufei answered. The Holo tapped a silent cane against the stair. Being no more than an image made of light, neither Phineus nor the cane had any physical body to make sound with. Wufei still found himself looking toward public loud speakers whenever the Holo spoke. The Hologram turned its head to look back at him over its shoulder. Phineus's mouth was pulled up in a mocking smirk and the eye's twinkled with wit. 

"S'pose tha' there would cause a few 'eads to, turn." Phineus did not elaborate and Wufei did not press, what a man (or thing in this case) thought up in their head was their private business. He twisted around and reached for the book that lay beside his pack and extra socks. Then Phineus gave a whistle, the type they used to warn of coming people, and said. "Ah, right on time." Wufei glanced over his shoulder to see a police car with a large dent in the front bumper driving up the ramp. The Holo tucked the pocket watch back into its waistcoat pocket, then tipped its top hat to him in a short bow. "This 'ere's yor ride, it's been a pleasure do'in business with yeh young sir." Phineus rose from the formal bow and strolled away. On the very edge of the walkway standing over an unfathomable drop the Hologram stopped. Phineus turned and called back to him. "If yor ever in a pinch, look me up. I'm always lookin' for somat to keep me on me toes. Phineus T. Wile, any computer can point yeh in my direction." Then there was a static sound; a jump in the image and Phineus was gone. Disappeared like always.

****

BANG! Wufei was instantly flat on the ground with a pocketknife in his hand. The stone of the top stair was cold through his thin clothes and he felt jittery with a sudden rush of adrenaline. He raised his head just enough to look for the source of the gunfire, ready to duck down again at a moment's notice. What met his searching gaze was a battered looking car with a cloud of smoke billowing out of the tail pipe. Wufei dropped his head and relaxed his shoulders, a car backfire, of course. An older, red haired officer was climbing out the car and up the stone stairs. 

A small bit of paper lifted in a breeze and floated down the steps. Flipping a loop the loop in the air as it drifted down to rest at the Officers feet. It was one of the things Wufei had dropped; a well-worn paper photo with wrinkles all over. The picture was of a young man about mid teens with dark hair and eyes and a very serious expression. He was in profile, staring out at something beyond the frame and wearing a black spacesuit with a helmet under his arm. 

The Red haired officer bent down and picked up the photo, careful not to damage it in any way. The man stared at it, his jaw dropping in a dumbfounded expression. He fingered the edge of the photo with his thumb and looked up at Wufei, who hadn't moved from his prone position. The officer looked at him, then back at the picture. He climbed the rest of the way up the stairs and crouched down by Wufei's head.

"Do you know this boy?" he whispered. Wufei inspected the man before him, who had with five little words become considerably more interesting. To the north a deep tone bell tolled out the hour. The crumbling framework of an abandoned clock tower peeked through the skyscrapers. The giant clock face was dark and the hands did not move. It was a broken timekeeper, yet still they could hear the bell, knelling six resounding gongs. GONG, GONG, GONG, GONG, GONG, GONG.

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	15. Never Wake the Beast

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Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of it's characters of references.

Notes: (**Warning,** blood and gore ahead! I mean serious gore. I planned to write out the whole fight scene, but found myself getting sick when I got the part where it turns bloody, so I just wrote the beginning and the aftermath.) I would love it if I could update for you guy's every week, I really would, I just can't. I'm having trouble keeping up with two weeks as it is. I'm just glad I'm not losing you guys because it takes me that long to update. 

****

Chapter Fifteen

(Never Wake the Beast)

GONG, GONG, GONG, GONG, GONG, GONG. An old woman startled awake from her slouched huddle at the base of the clock tower. She craned her brittle neck upward, staring at the tower that stretched far above her. The tower was old; it had been abandoned and broken for decades. It's only workers were the rats that skittered about the shadows and made an occasional meal for her. The old lady's face molded itself like reluctant clay, into an expression of awe and pity. Frail wisps of silver white hair drifted about her face as she nodded sagely, listening to the venerable bell tolling out the message. Father time foretold of death to come, who knew when or where. 

A company of arrogant young men, (well, young to her), with dark clothes and smokes swaggered past. She sneered at their backs. Perhaps death would start with them, she could hope. Pretentious bastards, always walking across her nicely tended weeds, blowing smoke in her face and cleaning their bloody hands in her rain bucket. She pulled a small teapot from under her armpit where she'd been keeping it warm and poured herself a cup. The bell fell silent and she sat hugging her tea, awaiting the prediction and humming a funeral march.

~~~~~

Caltha watched him sneak down the stairs and across the hall to the front double doors. She wrinkled her nose and brow in displeasure and slipped out of her tent in the lounge. She tucked Sushi under her arm and padded up behind him, sliding on her PJ, booty covered feet. Odin was crouched down, hunching over a bag that made soft clinking noises in the dark. Caltha glared at his back and tapped him on the shoulder. He had a hand on her throat before she could withdraw her finger. 

Odin dropped his hand as soon as he saw her. He hadn't even heard her above the sounds of the bag. He smirked; she was spending so much time with him she was even picking up on his walk. 

"You're sneaking out again," she whispered, shaking her finger at him. "That's," she held up both hands, paused, lifted a foot and pursed her lips. "A lot of sneaky nights." Odin pushed her hands and foot down so she wouldn't lose her balance and grunted. "Where do you go?" she asked.

"Out," he replied, and reached back for his bag. Caltha crossed her arms, much like him when he was lurking in a corner and said.

"I'm coming, I gotta keep you out of trouble." Odin mock glared at her, there was no possibility of her coming with him.

"No."

"I'll tell," she said. Odin's mock glare became sincere. He mentally scolded himself. This is what comes of humoring her about your whereabouts, now deal with the consequences. He continued to glare doom as he gathered his bag and swung her up onto his back.

They took the city tram and got off at ground level on the north side of the city. Odin made sure he had a firm grip on Caltha and made her walk close beside him. Caltha periodically went from hiding her head behind him to staring at the new world before her with wonder. The streets were deserted for the most part. A few dead leaves and an old newspaper danced across the empty road on an evening wind. The air was cool and smelled of plants and rust. The only person they passed was an old woman sitting on the step of a dilapidated clock tower, all bundled up in rags, hats, coats and scarves. She grinned at them as they passed, showing off her one remaining tooth. Odin did not pause or dawdle. He kept up a brisk pace until they reached a high wire fence at the end of an alley with a deserted construction site behind it. 

Odin brushed his fingers lightly over the twisted metal. The fence felt cool and smooth beneath his hands. He traced his thumb along the thread thin wires between the larger cables. There would be no cutting through this one without a lot of time, just his luck they would put up a new fence and make the site officially condemned. 

"Odin, watcha doing?" Caltha asked, her ever-chipper voice echoing through the lonesome back street. Odin crouched and pressed a hand over her mouth. He brought a finger to his lips and looked hard into her eyes. Caltha nodded and he released her face.

"I'm unlocking the fence," he said. Caltha frowned and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Odin stood and turned back to the fence. On the other side, far past the piles of junk he could see the shadowed figure of an MS leaning against the wall. It sat there with one arm hanging limply in its lap, like some broken puppet with its strings cut. Someone must have had plans to use it in the building process. He ran his hands over the wire framework of the fence looking for a weak spot he could bend. 

A metal clang rang out from above and Odin jerked his head up. There were fire escape stairways on both sides of the alley, traveling all the way up the walls to the roofs of the two buildings. The shadows were to deep to see much, but when the sound did not persist Odin turned back to the fence, keeping both ears open. If he couldn't find a weak spot in the fence he would have to climb over, ordinarily that wouldn't be a problem, but Caltha would be stranded by herself on the opposite side from him. He didn't think she would be able to climb up with him.

Another sound came, this time from the other side of the alley. A creaking of metal, as if someone was shifting position up there on the rusted stairs. Odin spun around to face the entrance of the alley. He made a soft 'hnn' grunt and pulled Caltha behind him with the fence to her back. Someone or something was watching them, he could tell. He could always tell when he was being watched.

"Show yourselves," he commanded. At first nothing answered him, just a few nervous creaks and shifting shadows. His eyes darted about the alley searching for a hint of their positions. "Now," he barked. A slippery laugh echoed down to him from the roof on the left.

"Ya think we're that fucking stupid? Nah, I think we'll stay up here, nice an cozy, but you're in for a hell of fucking time."

"Shit, what about the kid man, Scead said nothin' about fucking a kid." Another voice called from half way down the other wall. 

A deafening bang rang out from the roof of the right building. Odin sprang and dropped to the side with Caltha underneath him. Something small whizzed past his head and stung his ear. They hit the ground hard, Odin tumbled in a roll to absorb the impact and Caltha clung to him more tightly them she ever had before. They rolled across the pavement and collided with a pile of trash bags in a corner between the fence and the wall. Another shot was fired and Odin crawled on top of Caltha protecting her with his body as best he could. The small noise of bullets pinging off the metal fire escape above was drowned out by the sounds of gunfire reverberating through their bones. Again and again it sounded, BANG, BANG, BANG. Odin glanced up at the metal stairs overhead and thanked his luck for such a shield. Beneath him Caltha was shaking and crying into his shirt. He tucked the top of her head under his chin and brushed his fingers through her hair. The smell of gun smoke drifted down from the roof, leaving thin clouds floating in the air.

When the earsplitting clamor finally stopped, the silence left behind was solid. Odin could imagine his ears bleeding from the vacant roar. It had been less then a year since he'd last heard it yet it seemed like an eternity. He blinked when he felt a warm trickle leak down his outer ear. He lifted his fingers to the side of his head and they came away red. Was it the sound that made his ears bleed? No, no it was the bullet, the one that had grazed the side of his head. Odin lifted his head and peeked up through the new holes in the fire escape. A black silhouetted figure at the top of the wall was reloading a gun with practiced ease. Now would be the ideal time to run.

At the entrance to the alley two tall, dark shapes shuffled into the little street. Odin watched the men come out of the shadows. Three on the fire escapes, one on the roof and two on the ground. He stood in one smooth motion and braced himself in front of Caltha. One of the men charged in from the alley entrance, a blur of speed and shadow. Odin's eye caught the glint of a blade in the dark. He dodged to the right, flattening himself to the wall above Caltha. The man who had rushed him ran into the fence, leaving a huge dent in the structure. Another man on the staircase above dropped onto Odin's back. Odin spun on his toes and hurled the man against the opposite wall. 

Caltha was curled up in a ball among the trash bags. She covered her ears with her hands to block out the frightening thuds and curses that boomed through the side street. The awful bangs from before did not return and slowly she began to loosen her tightly closed eyelids. The sickly sweet smell of garbage emanating from the trash bags made her wrinkle her nose in distaste. A loud crash and more shouting came from the left. Caltha cracked an eye open and peeked out over the mound of plastic bags and cardboard boxes of trash. 

All she could see were smudges. Everyone was moving to fast for her to catch. There was a large dark blur that moved around the alley and cursed. Inside was lighter colored blur she thought was Odin, but she really couldn't tell, there were just different colored streaks zipping about. One of the dark blurs that was attacking Odin suddenly sailed up and over their heads and hit the far wall, dislodging dust and loose bricks on impact. Only when the fighters broke apart to stop and circle could she see who was who and where. A large fellow with a pipe in his hands was lurking under the stairs behind Odin. He lifted the pipe in his hands and started to bring it down on Odin's head. Caltha Shrieked. Odin turned in time to save his head but was thrown into the wall just beside her. The man with the pipe and another man with brass knuckles advanced on Odin. Caltha squeaked and stuck her fist into her mouth, staring in terrified fascination as the big men pummeled her defender.

Odin released a gasp of air and bent over his stomach, which now had a fist imbedded in it. Opponent number one had rushed in to punch him in the gut. Opponent number one was a very big man, with brass knuckles. The thug punched again, and Odin sagged and tried to breathe, the man had a fist like a sledgehammer. He did not want to kill these men, though they obviously wanted to kill him. If he could just defend Caltha long enough to get them both out of here things would be fine. Another punch to the stomach and he choked. The thug must either be taking steroids or carrying illegal implants. The next fist he would have to break. Except there was no next fist, instead there was a high pitched scream, the like he'd never heard. A sound shrill enough to shatter glass and eardrums. The man who had been rearranging his insides looked down with a startled grunt.

"The fuck?…" he said. Caltha had attached herself to the man's leg and was biting his knee through a large tear in the pants, biting hard. The thug howled and swung down both fists. Odin caught the first one with the brass knuckles, but he wasn't fast enough to grab the second. The man backhanded Caltha, flinging her tiny weight away from him. She gave a choked cry before her head hit the brick wall and she dropped back on to the garbage heap. She lay very still, exactly where she landed. Not a sound came out of her. Not a whine, not a cry, nothing.

Time slowed like a rickety subway train and came to a halt. Odin felt nothing at first, he just watched her still body, waiting for it to get up and run to him, asking him to kiss it better… to do something. There was nothing, then there was rage. A terrible burning heat exploded inside his heart and filled his mind. A wild firestorm hot enough to scorch his innards to blackened cinders. His blood surged up to the point of boiling, scalding his veins apart and washing away every wall and defense. Any reservations he'd had about causing pain to these goons were incinerated, they were nothing but kindling for the blaze. He didn't even notice that he was slowly crushing the hand in his possession, grinding it to a bloody pulp with his fingers. Not a sound could reach his ears, except the echo of her defiant scream. Something deep, deep down inside started to move. Just a little snort and scuffle at first, then more and more until it woke and roared out its fury. Until it cried for blood! 

Odin growled deep in his throat. Not the normal, poor, human imitation of a growl, no this was the true animalistic sound. He turned away from her crumpled body to face the dumb brute that had dared raise a hand against her. The man's face was twisted in pain and his mouth was moving in what might have been shouts and pleas, but Odin couldn't hear a thing. He cocked his head to the side and looked at the remains of the fist he held. His hand was covered in blood and he could feel the red liquid dripping down his arm. There were bits of bone sticking out between his fingers, hard little shards with bits of tendons still attached. He looked at the blood covering his hand and watched it run down the thug's forearm along with his. _This is what you want? You are hungry?_ He thought, and the beast within howled in response. He bent his head down and took a bit of the raw meat in his mouth, sucking on the rusty tasting flesh. He licked his lips and let out a soft chuckle at the horrified face of the man before him. The beast was free, and it would reek havoc on the world!

~~~~~

It was everywhere, absolutely everywhere. The walls looked as if someone had splashed buckets of red paint on them. There were all different shades, going from a black red to the lighter hue of the veins. The fence was dripping with it. Little crimson droplets falling into congealing puddles on the ground. Drip, drip, drip… his head felt heavy, as if some great weight was forcing it down. He didn't want to look down, if he looked down he'd see, oh god… there were six of them. Poor stupid bastards didn't know when to run. Then again, maybe they did, and they were just hunted down. He couldn't remember. He lifted his shoe and let the head that had been resting against it roll away. He shuffled after the head, nudging it with his foot when it came to a halt. He listened to the plop, plop of his footsteps splashing through the thick puddles on the asphalt. Every once in awhile there would be an extra squish when he stepped on an organ. The air was musty and smelled of death. A brief ripping sound came from above on the fire escape and an arm that was hanging onto its master by its last string finally gave up and fell to the pavement. 

Odin stopped his slow march when he reached the trash bags at the back. He knelt down by the black baggage, now slippery with blood. His bangs were sticking to his forehead, and he knew it wasn't from sweat. She still lay there, were she had landed at the beginning. He reached out a hand and touched it to her throat, leaving a dark red mark on her neck. She had a pulse, she was alive! He picked her up and held her close to him. He had to get her back to the Orphanage. He turned to leave and stray thought crossed his hazy mind. One of those simple, lifesaving thoughts that come at random when you are least able to deal with common sense. _You cannot go back the way you came_, it said. _People will see you on a public transport. You are not a fit sight to see, there will be panic and questions_. Odin closed his eyes and nodded, listening to the safe little voice that sounded so much like his own, and yet different. He hoisted Caltha up onto his back, holding her feet with one arm and her hands with the other. He took a deep breath, crouched and leaped into a run, the long and powerful run that could take him across a city and leap over cars. As he ran he prayed that Caltha did not wake up. Run, just run and don't think. If you think you'll remember what you're running from. Don't think, just run. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	16. Reflection

+

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, nor any of its characters or references, I'm not sure who they do belong to but it's not me.

Notes: **Warning,** blood and gore ahead. I was planning to leave the bloody stuff behind immediately after the last chapter and not go into to it again, but it just wouldn't leave. Aspects of it kept popping up again so I figured I'd better come out of it more slowly, if in doubt always trust your fingers, they know how to write better then you do, at least mine do. The move in the first flash back is theoretically possible, it's a martial arts move, making an upper cut with straight fingers like that. Hypothetically if you had enough power behind it you could rip the flesh but I don't know if it's ever been done. One last thing before I leave you to the story, I regret to say that there will be **no more new updates until new years**. I'm very, very sorry but I just don't have time. We're visiting my sister for her graduation and I don't want to just spin something out as fast as I can on the night before Christmas and give you guys a crappy chapter, but I love you all and have no fear (drum roll, and Arnold swartzinegger accent) I'll be back!

****

Chapter Sixteen

(Reflection)

The tiles were milky white and squeaky clean. Sterile and pure of any sin, except for one bloody line of footprints trailing in from the back door. The kitchen was awash in shadows. Only a pale moonlight illuminated the counters by the windows, casting slivers of dim light into the gloom. The sticky tracks of blood were smudged as if by slipping feet and tiny beads of red fell from a dark shape that slunk through the room, leaving perfect circles of crimson on the floor. The silhouette was hunched over something it carried in its arms and mumbling.

"Dripping, I'm dripping," The shadow whispered. The black shape tried to bend down to wipe at the scarlet smears on the floor, but fumbled and nearly dropped its burden on the ground. The shadow slipped in its tracks and came down with one leg stretched far out to the side. The balance was precarious but the form never dropped its armful. "Wrong," it mumbled, "wrong maneuver." The shadow slid to its feet too hastily and backed into the pots and pans that hung over its head. CLASH, CLANG, BANG! The pealing clatter of kettles and skillets resounded through silence like a toll of doom. The shadow ducked its head and silenced the steal pots with a hand, leaving red streaks along their burnished surfaces. The silhouette hurried over to a counter and set its load down in the sink. A dark red hand moved into the light to use the faucet. Water gushed into the sink and soon went from clear to red as the hands ran the liquid over the small body in the sink again and again. 

The shadow did not hear the sound of pounding feet, or the click of a light switch. The figure was too busy scrubbing away in the sink with frantic movements to notice any warnings. The lights flicked on and he stilled, blinking in the sudden brilliance. He did not lift his head or turn about. Caltha's head rested against his shoulder, as if in a pleasant sleep. He lifted a finger and brushed the hair from her eyes. His hands were clean up to the wrist and he left no mark. He raised his eyes to the black window before him and stared at the reflections of the three people across the room. 

"Odin," Anna whispered, "what have you done?…" Odin was drenched in blood. His hair was slick and knotted with it, and she could see little dribbles running down the back of his neck. In the glass his face was painted a royal red. She watched a scarlet bead grow, and fall from his chin to the tiles with a plop. His clothes were black with gore, stained forever with another's life. Drips and drops trickled down his legs and spilled into a crimson puddle on the floor, a sharp contrast between the red and white of kitchen and boy. Anna could find no words to say. She felt sick and clutched a hand to her throat and closed her eyes in pain. How? Was all she could think, how had this happened? She felt her father shift behind her and step forward. She started when they were both shoved aside by the boy her father had brought in that night, asking about Odin.

Wufei strode across the kitchen and grabbed a pair of trash bags from a box on the counter. He said no words; there was no surprise on his face as he approached his old fellow. He shrugged out of his white shirt and shouldered his comrade aside. He hadn't been able to see what was in the sink from the doorway and frowned at the sight of a little girl with blood splashed onto her clothes and hair. He looked up and caught his fellow's eye, dark eyes, darker then he remembered. A glance between them was all that was needed. Wufei shoved a trash bag into the other pilot's chest and jerked his head towards the door. 

Odin nodded and paused to take a last glance at Caltha. Her bloody overalls were now stuffed into a garbage bag and Wufei was pulling off her soiled shirt. Odin ducked his head and bolted past Gerry and Anna. Gerry shouted and followed him out the door and down the hall. Odin kept away from carpets and rugs, and slipped several times in his dash through the halls. He found a bathroom and fumbled with the doorknob, his hands slipping off the handle and pulling when he should be pushing. His hands were shaking. He shook the door open and slipped inside, slamming and locking the door behind him just as Gerry ran into it with a thud. 

Odin stepped away from the door and watched it from beneath his bangs, waiting for Gerry to start yelling and breaking down the door. His breath came gasps and he couldn't get his hands to stop trembling, not even by gripping them tightly into his stomach. There was no sound from outside and the door did not quake from blows. He waited a few minutes more before he stripped off his clothes and stuffed them into the plastic garbage bag. The tiles were cool beneath his bare feet and he instantly felt chilled. 

He made the shower hot, then hotter and hotter until the water nearly scalded the skin from his body, but no matter how hot it got the downpour couldn't warm the chill inside his bones. The water ran a bloody red, the grisly liquid swirling about his feet. His skin was rosy from heat and scrubbing, but he didn't stop. He could still see it on him, in his pores, in his skin and in every strand of hair. He washed and brushed and scoured every inch of himself and still he could feel and smell the stains. 

The water had run cold; he brought his hands to his shoulders and sagged against the shower stall. A little shiver racked his frame from the cool water. He shut off the faucet and climbed out of the stall, careful to sidestep around the red pools on the floor. He dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. Then he grabbed several long cleaning wipes from the cabinet and crouched down to mop up the remaining gore from the room. He dropped the absorbent wipes into the toilet and flushed, no evidence to be found in the trash. He stood and took antiseptic and gauze balls from a cabinet and applied them to the open cuts on his knuckles and ear. The only sound to be heard was the quite drip, drip of the faucet. The silence was solid and whole, pressing down on his discordant thoughts and pushing them to sleep.

A long sigh whispered through the room. Odin spun around, hunting for the source of the moan. The bathroom was pale and clean, empty except for him. The window was locked, the shower door closed and fogged. He slid the stall open and checked inside, nothing but tile and soap. He shut the door and returned to the mirror. His hand rubbed steam off the glass in a circle, leaving a hole to look through, and he stared at his likeness. His skin was wan, no longer flushed with heat and fire. His hair was wet, but no longer red. He probed his stomach with his fingers. The skin was already turning black and blue from abuse, but his hands no longer shook. His body was still, his breathing regular and his face calm. 

Plop… plop… plop, sounded the faucet, leaking gleaming droplets into a puddle at the bottom of the sink. Odin closed his eyes and listened. The silence became heavier and thicker, the air felt stagnant with it. All the other tiny sounds struggled to survive under the weight of the quiet and in their struggle became much more pronounced. He could hear the creak of the walls, constantly shifting in their nervous positions. The plop, drip of water and the whisk of his fingers as they ran along the edge of the sink. He could hear his breathing reverberating through the room, rustling in and out of his lungs. An echo mimicked his every sound, inhale, and exhale. His heart thumped in his chest, dullump, dullump, and there was a similar throb each time. Almost as if their was another person… standing right ahead of him. A second body that answered him, breath for breath and heart beat for heart beat. 

Odin tried to gulp down the clog in his throat, and opened his eyes. There he was, standing in the mirror and looking out at him with that still and somber face of his, the face that didn't fit. The eyes were dark and cool as a subterranean well, that boy was cold inside, cold in blood, and cold in mind. The reflection blinked at him and Odin sucked in a breath at the sight. He took a step back from the mirror and gawked at the likeness that was not him.

"You?" he whispered. The stranger in the glass nodded at him.

"You," it murmured back. The chill in the room tripled, as if his body heating had ceased to function altogether. He felt numbed from the inside out. Odin wrapped a second towel around his shoulders and hugged it to himself, but it did little good, his blood was still cold… cold, cold-blooded. Red turns to blue and the fire gets doused with ice. Dark ice, black like before, black ice for a soul. Or is it the place for the soul, a box to put the spirit in that's now all empty. No more soul. 

"I'm cold," he said in hushed tones.

"Good," the mirror stranger replied. Odin frowned at his double… double… double trouble, trouble in the double. He moaned and leaned his elbows on the sink, letting his head fall against his chest and hang there, he couldn't think. Thoughts came and went as quickly as a match head burning out, avoiding him with ease and helping none. Now we are falling right back to the beginning, back to winter, lost to the snows, lost in the waste and soon I'll be too lost to be alive. He looked up at the mirror through his damp bangs, then it won't be me walking around any more; it'll be you.

"You can't have me," he hissed, and scowled at the mirror. I worked hard to get here. Me, I'm the one who should be out to play, you make the act a dull sham. The glass stranger smiled a pitiless smile.

"But _I_ don't make the play a tragedy," the stranger in the mirror answered. Odin stopped and frowned deeper.

"Hnh…" he grunted, and the reflection raised an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you don't remember," the image declared in a low, callous voice. Odin shook his head, then sniffed as a faint rusty smell filled the air.

__

FLASH… the man's face was a picture of undiluted terror. His skin was white with fear and the very roots of his hair seemed to pale as he fought back with the desperation of the doomed. The thug's clumsy blocks and punches were laughable. Odin's fingers were stretched straight out and curled at the end like claws. One quick upper cut to the stomach was all he needed. His hand connected with the man's belly and there was a sound of ripping flesh. Blood gushed forth and his hand was quickly incased in the thug's hot squishy innards. His opponent was bent over his arm, choking and spitting blood. He felt around with his fingers until he had a good hold on something relatively round, and pulled. Dark, red gore poured out onto the pavement. The man gave one last gurgle and crumpled to the ground in his own juices, followed by the plunk of entrails falling to the street.

Odin bent over the sink and gagged. He coughed and his stomach muscles clenched again and again, trying their hardest to retch, but his dinner was long gone and he had nothing to vomit.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten already," his reflection said.

__

FLASH… the shadow of the running goon grew larger as he closed in on his prey. His long legs stretched far in an easy sprint and the chase ended in a dead end alley not far from where they had started. He reached down, hauled up a long pipe and held it in front of him like a sword. His quarry fled down to the end and tried to scramble up the wall. He stalked through the entrance of the alley and up to the thug who was clawing at the wall in panic. He tapped his prey on the shoulder with the tip of the pipe, which had been shorn in half at the end, giving the metal a sharp edge. His victim turned around and pressed his back to the wall, eyes pleading. He snarled, raised the pipe and swung down with the force of a wrecking ball. There was a crunch and rip as the metal connected with the neck. Warm blood spurted into his face and dribbled down his chin while the thug's head went flying. The head hit the street with a thud and rolled down the alley. He dropped the pipe and grabbed the headless body by the collar, the ragged remains of the neck pumping thick, hot blood over his hand. He strolled out of the back street; dragging a dismembered body and kicking the head in front of him like a toy ball. 

Odin was gripping the sink so tightly it creaked in protest. His mouth hung open and his insides cramped. He choked, trying to inhale and retch at the same time. Oh god, he couldn't breathe! He concentrated all his attention on loosening his muscles. He coughed and wheezed and finally succeeded in drawing a breath. It was like coming up for air just when you thought you would drown. 

"Remember now?" asked the stranger in the mirror.

"Stop!" he choked. 

"Stop what?" the reflection answered in his own monotone. "Stop your remembrance, recall, reminisce, and recollection? Don't you want keep track? You used to count them off, every one you killed you added to the list. What's the number now, twenty, forty?"

"Thirty seven personal, uncounted number of civilian casualties and people in sabotaged buildings" Odin mumbled and licked his lips. He looked up at the stranger in the mirror, his double, his twin, his shadow, him. He could still smell blood. What a to-do to die today, to lie today and fly today. I was going to fly, fly away with the bird on the wing, but left Wing behind and flew with men. I can still fly, I can, I can…so long as they won't know. He glared death at the thing in the mirror. Then you had to come; you ruined all, now I'll never fly without wings. He struggled to regain his breath. I can't breathe between you two, you and him, thing and thing, the ravager, the beast beneath. "That's why _you're_ here isn't it," he hissed, "you off-set him."

"I've always been here," the glass stranger said. Always here not always there. Left or right, no right or wrong, only power, power of the hungry, power of the poor, power of the oppressed, power of the rebel. You can go where they can't, but careful in the dark you may trip and fall. Down the stairs with a broken neck, and make the suit a mobile wreck. The wolf comes out to play, but predator won't sport nice with prey. Cold! Odin blinked and panted; the freezing water running over his head from the faucet jerked him back to himself with a shock. He loosened his fingers from the iron handle and let his hand dangle into the sink with his hair. He stayed there until his stomach calmed and he could breathe well. Then he shut off the water and lifted his head out of the sink to face his image in the mirror. 

"So," he said, drying his hands on the towel around his neck, "you are me." His voice was casual, as if he were holding a light conversation with an old friend. "You and the other, the violent one, I have to choose between the two of you?" His reflection nodded and Odin looked it in the eye, feeling his insides quiver at the intense stare before him. "That's not a choice," he whispered, and smashed his fist into the glass. A spider web of cracks spread outward from his fist to the frame. The mirror broke and splinters of glass showered onto the floor. He backed away and slid down the opposite wall, bringing his knees to his chest and holding his bloody knuckles. Outside he heard Gerry start to yell and pound the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	17. Old Friends

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Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its characters or references. 

Notes: I'm baaaack! Doodododoododoo! My most sincere apologies for getting this out so late I have no excuse I was just procrastinating after new years, but this chapter is nice and long. Wow, I've only had a week of free time and I'm already bored to vegetable state. : ( I WANT SCHOOL TO START… AND I WANT THE STUPID PIDGEON LIVERED REGISTRATION SYSTEM TO START WORKING. Oh, wait, I have to learn to drive before next semester… okay the month should be nice and long. (starts biting nails.)

****

Chapter Seventeen

Old Friends

Gerry's hands were pressed flat on the desk, his official, badged bulk leaned over them on straight arms. He was reminded of the saying; you learn something new every day. Tonight, he squinted over his shoulder at the rising sun through Anna's office window, well today, he had proven the rule. Today he had learned that it pays to hold suspicions close to the heart, that stress really is bad for your health, and that there are times when his magic "make you talk just by the sight of me" police badge and an impatient glare were well nigh useless. This last was an unsettling discovery that he'd known for some time but never had actually occur. Gerry was known as one of the best interrogators on the force. He could be intimidating, cajoling, reasoning or what ever need be to get the suspect to talk. If anyone needed a second hand they requested Gerry, and here he was after eight hours of fishing with a kid that just wouldn't bite, hell he hadn't even opened his mouth. 

Odin sat across the desk from him staring at a point of air, in the same position he'd been in for the last eight hours. Gerry couldn't help wondering how sore his but was for sitting that long. He'd dragged Odin to Anna's office and thrown that same but into that same chair after they had cleaned up the blood from the kitchen and halls. He had reluctantly helped. He didn't want all the kids to wake up and find blood everywhere, but it was also evidence. He had conceded, planning on taking Odin's clothes in, but they had mysteriously disappeared along with Caltha's, and any trace blood. So here he was, bone tired and baggy eyed after trying since midnight to get a word out of Odin. So far he had succeeded in getting his attention once when he'd pulled the chair out from under him. Anna had come in several times during the night to try her luck, but she got nothing. Gerry didn't know if he was purposefully ignoring them or if he was unable to hear them. If the latter was true it doubled his worry. Something was very wrong, somebody had died and judging by the great amount of blood that had been evident, not neatly. 

But what really worried him was the lack of any reaction towards his badge, which he'd purposefully laid on the table in plain view before they started, and it wasn't just a bruise to his ego. Even the hardened criminals gave it a passing glance. The badge was a symbol that they had been caught, that things were serious now, that part of the vast machine of judicial power ranging from the lowliest desk clerk to the highest preventor office and court room of judge, jury and executioner had turned it's almighty eye on you. Of course the truth was far less glamorous. In reality the whole thing was one big bureaucracy with red tape by the bundles. The police dealt with the local, small time criminals, as the more important people liked to call them. Never mind that that these small time criminals had entire black markets and drug rings to their name and held enough economic influence to start a less official war on the very streets below your doorstep, they were still small time. Anything big was to be handed from secretary to secretary until it was lost to the lawyers and politicians. Odin's lack of response to the badge implied he was either very stupid (something Gerry could not believe), very out of it and not all there (something that was possible). Or that he usually dealt with someone of greater importance, say a preventor, (which was also possible, and Gerry was beginning to think, even likely). If the last were so then Gerry had the uneasy feeling that his small fish was a shark. Gerry slammed a fist into the desktop.

"This is damn serious, Odin, if that is your name. You show up swimming in blood and leave a god-dammed trail through the city that a blind man could follow. I called the station and a team has already been sent to the scene. I can't believe that no one is dead and if you killed them in self defense you were awfully enthusiastic about it, now you can either talk to me or talk to someone a lot less nice. The only place you'll go with your mouth shut will be the penitentiary, or worse…" while he stood railing at the youth, who still had yet to bat an eye, he was reminded of when he first met him. Gerry'd had his suspicions then, the way Odin held himself, the smoothness in his actions, the intensity, the eyes, the silence, the youth, something had been out of place. Finally he brought his hands up and rubbed his eyes, he needed a break, and a coffee. "I'll be back," he grumped and stamped out the door, slamming it behind him.

The Asian kid he'd brought with him stood leaning against the opposite wall. The black haired boy strode towards the office when he saw Gerry emerge. Gerry stretched his arm across the doorframe, halting his progress. "Whoa, wait a minute," he grouched, "I'm gonna have questions for you too after some coffee." He still didn't know the Chinese boy's name, the kid had never introduced himself just demanded he be taken to Odin, a fact that made Gerry wonder how much of the current situation he'd anticipated. "Like how do you know this kid, how _much_ do you know about him, were you expecting something like this and if so how did you think to handle it, and I want all the details… after my coffee." The Asian youth eyed him with a doubtful air, and nodded. Gerry withdrew his arm from the doorway and waved him in. the boy looked at him for a minute more,

"Even if you knew, you could do nothing," he said, and walked into the office. Gerry paused, not entirely disagreeing with the young man. He was a cop, and he was good at his job, but something was out of place. Something had been out of place since he'd met these boys and he was afraid it might be him, that this was their world and he only lived in it. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes again. Anna walked up to him and handed him a mug of coffee. She wrapped her chili pepper bathrobe tighter about herself and asked,

"Anything?" Gerry shook his head and sipped his coffee.

"No, did you find his clothes?" he questioned. Anna shook her head.

"I looked through every trash can and dumpster around the whole orphanage and I can't find a trace of them, it's as if they never were," she said. 

"How's Caltha?"

"Still asleep, I thought she might wake up but I expect her internal clock snuck up on her. She's not usually up that late," Anna said. Gerry took a long swig of coffee and cracked his neck.

"Well, we're just lucky she didn't get a concussion, baby that age, she's _very_ lucky," he said. Anna picked a bit of fuzz off her elbow and mumbled,

"Maybe it wasn't luck." Gerry creased his eyebrows at her,

"Care to let me in?" he asked. Anna stole his coffee and took a sip, then sighed,

"I don't know what to let you in on, dad. Odin's never been one to start fights, in fact he'll usually avoid confrontation like rotting fruit, but… there was so much blood… he might have been protecting her." Anna stopped a look of dismay forming on her face. "Dad, what if she saw." Gerry nodded and reached behind her to rub her back. 

"I know honey," he whispered. He turned his head to look over his shoulder into the office, half expecting to see the Asian boy snapping his fingers in front of Odin's eyes, what he did see made his eyes grow wide. "Oh no," he mumbled. The room was empty; the only sign that it had been occupied a moment before was a gently spinning chair.

~~~~~

There was a cool nip in the air that made you want to open your nostrils as wide as possible. The two comrades walked side by side with no words, no mumbles, just the quiet pad of footfalls on cement. It was a comfort, such silence. There was no awkward air to it, no need to ask 'how have you been,' 'how did you find me,' 'want to get some breakfast?' No need to inject meaningless chatter, as if the silence was something empty that needed to be filled. A friendly quiet could say more than a hundred heart-felt conversations. When there was no need for words, and you could sit on a bench watching the ants crawl across your boot two by two without a thought of talking, that was when you could say the most. Odin sighed and leaned back, letting his head hang off the back of the bench and stared up at the sky. 

"It's all gone wrong," he whispered, his voice so low he nearly didn't hear himself. I was supposed to recover from the war, I was supposed to pull my self up and learn to walk like a human. I was supposed to learn to act my age… I was supposed to have a chance. He felt his mouth fall open and his lips form words and listened to himself ask, "Wufei, do you believe in fate?" He waited for an answer, listened to his fellow pilot cross his ankles and lean his head back mimicking his position.

"I believe in potential," Wufei whispered back. The sound was respectful, anything louder than a whisper would have scared away the silence, which was something they both needed. Odin traced the shape of a petal with his eyes while it dropped from the tree above their heads and floated down to rest on his lap. 

"Doesn't it ever come to you, the feeling of inevitability? That no matter how many times you stand up you will only fall back down again, farther then before."

"An infant falls many times before it learns to walk."

"Don't dodge," Odin said. Wufei smirked and closed his eyes,

"What do you want to hear?" he asked

"The truth, always," Odin whispered. There was a pause, then

"You're dangerous," Wufei said. Odin reached up to touch the silver stud in his ear, his pinky finger turning the thorns around and around. It represented one of the few impulsive things he had done in his life.

"Even to you?" he asked, am I a hazard even to my fellows of war?

"Yes," Wufei whispered and Odin closed his eyes. He had seen him; the first time he met up with any one he'd known from before and Wufei saw him covered in blood, then there was that aftermath in the mirror. "What did they do?" Wufei asked. 

"They hurt her," he answered.

"The girl?" Odin nodded in response. Wufei cracked an eye open and peaked sideways at his fellow pilot. He well remembered him in battle, calculating, and deadly precise at first, but slowly the detachment would unravel and he would become savage. Sometimes they could hear him laughing over the COM, and when the zero system took hold of him the carnage was magnified threefold. Nothing remained of the enemy but space junk. "Is there anything left," he asked.

"No." Odin felt something velvet soft brush his nose and opened his eyes. The tree limbs above were sprinkling petals onto their faces. A small gust of wind blew through the wood with a rustle, pulling another shower of pink petals off their branches. The petals swirled down, turning leaps and pirouettes in the air. Odin reached up and caught one between thumb and forefinger. He contemplated the petal in his hand, holding it aloft before his eyes, and slowly tore it apart. There was no sound to accompany the act, but as he rent it in three, the petal looked like ripping flesh. He held the three fragments overhead, that was him, split and ripped. He whispered "three for three," and let them fall, like the pieces of his mind. "One for the stranger, one for me, one for the ravager." 

He licked his lips, trying to push the taste of blood out of his mouth. The taste never really went away, no matter how much he brushed and flossed and gargled, his mouth still held that rusty flavor. He watched the tattered segments of petal blow away. I can't tell him, I can't tell him… 

"They're serious when they say you can't go back," Odin murmured "you can never unlearn life. I thought that…" A small family passed before them, laughing, grumbling, chatting and whining. One mother, one father, two teenage sons and a young daughter. The boys were mock fighting, and tossing a basketball, and their sister was complaining about her dribbling ice cream. The family passed the two boys on the rickety bench without a glance. 

"You thought you could learn to be your age?" Wufei asked. His voice held no contempt, only a somber understanding. Odin nodded and watched another petal fall from the branches overhead. "A difficult task, once on the tigers back it is hard to alight. You can't be a child when you've grown up an adult."

"I tried."

"You tried and failed."

"First I thought I was unable to be around people." Odin's voice took on a musing quality, as if he was alone and whispering to himself, as if he were the only person in all the world. "Then I thought I could, I could even learn to be like them. Then… " He stopped short of mentioning the slaughter. He had to keep his mind from going back there, he was not ready to be sick again. "Lies within lies within lies." Wufei snorted,

"Welcome to the world," he said. Odin smirked and answered,

"Thank you, I've been gone for awhile." The smirk slipped from his face and he brushed his fingers against the side of his mouth where it had been. He wondered if he were really here at all. Was this him, or was it one of the two that fought against him and for him, or another false image of what he'd like to be? He just didn't know anymore, wasn't sure he would ever know, or if he did, if he would be able to stand himself. He sat up and looked down at Wufei, who still had his head leaning off the back of the bench, eyes closed. "What are you doing here Wufei?" he asked, the familiar chill returning to his voice. Wufei opened his eyes and stared back at him with out moving his head. They regarded each other without speaking, letting the silence say what they could not. Finally Wufei sighed, pulled himself up and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Misery loves company…" He stopped and stared ahead, then, "I consider you an equal, I could not stand less than that." He turned his head and looked at Odin. "You may be a mess, but you are not weak."

"That's your only reason?" Odin asked.

"No."

~~~~~

Scead lounged against a metal packing crate, puffing on a joint. A single bulb hanging from the ceiling lit up the area around the crates and then faded into the shadows before the light ever reached the walls. The only other sources of light in this warehouse came from the glowing hand print locks on the crates and the tiny red flare of Scead's cigarette. Scead blew two columns of smoke through his nose and stamped out the end of the cigarette. He waited until someone came and opened up a crate for him, then filled his pockets with a week's load. He ignored the suspicious glare the other man was giving him and swaggered towards the exit, flipping the frowning drone the finger.

Scead hid the stash in his usual place under the 69-transit bridge, keeping a few packets with him for the day's work. The ground rumbled and the graffiti covered walls shook as the tram passed overhead. Very little light made it down into this cranny, under a bridge and between the foundations of towering skyscrapers. Before he left his crevice, Scead looked about for any sign of company and pulled a long needle out of his coat. He loaded the needle from his stash, with only a slight trembling of the hand and shot it into his vein. 

"Bombs away," he said. The eight seconds before the drug hit was enough time to pull the needle from his arm and hide it. A sudden feeling of euphoria struck him and he stumbled back into the curving wall of the bridge. The rush was intense, he felt warm and giddy all over. His muscles relaxed and he sunk down the wall to the ground, grinning like an idiot. His mouth was dry, his hands felt heavy and his breath slowed down to a dangerous level while he enjoyed the initial surge. "God save Capital H," he whispered. Scead lay there on the ground, going from wakeful to drowsy, and feeling much happier for it. In one of his more alert periods he pulled himself up onto his feet, brushed the dirt from his coat and crawled out of his cranny up to the bridge. He walked the few blocks to his personal turf singing, "the candy man can. The candy man can cause he mixes it with love and makes the world go round…"

He stopped on his street corner and leaned against a crooked lamppost. The sun was bright and warm, and the midday heat blanketing his back made him feel extra drowsy. Scead took out another cigarette and lit it. He breathed in the smoke and blew it out, feeling his eyes growing heavy and falling half-asleep at his post. A light tap on the shoulder brought him around and he turned to find Borg looking down at him.

"Hey balloon," Borg said. Scead nodded in greeting and flicked some ash onto the sidewalk. Borg took his own joint out of his mouth and looked suspiciously at Scead's contented smile and half-closed lids. "How much you haulin' today," he asked in a casual tone, watching his friend closely.

"A quarter bag," Scead mumbled, rubbing the place beneath his sleeve where he'd injected the drug and letting his eyes fall shut completely. Borg cursed and spit on the ground. He grabbed Scead and shook the smaller man awake, even going so far as to box his ears.

"Damn your ass!" he hissed "you've been getting snotty on the job again. Tell me it wasn't the stash you're selling!" Scead shook his hands off and puffed on his cigarette with a smile on his face, like an unrepentant child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Relax…" he started, but Borg cut him off with an angry snap.

"Relax? Shit, I'll relax when, ah fuck!" he grunted and hauled Scead around the end of a corner alley and down into an abandoned basement, where he could bellow without the fear of being overheard. "I'm gonna kick your ass when you wake up!" he shouted, "do you know how damned, hell fucking stupid you're being! Shit, you know as well as I do that the dealers who dope on their sale stash get picked off like that!" he snapped his fingers in front of Scead's nose. Scead sneered and pushed the hand away.

"It's nothing, I'm still doin' my job, and it's not like they don't have enough to spare," he scoffed. Borg looked ready to slug him in the mouth, but instead took a long puff on his cigarette and backed away a couple purposeful steps. He blew out a shuddering breath and glowered at Scead, who just smiled. Borg snorted, normally he would wait to reason with his bro until after the drug effects wore off, but today there wasn't time. Word got around fast on the streets, and if they didn't have a plan of action by the time the Big Men heard of this mess they'd be in even deeper shit. He just hoped Scead wasn't to far gone to appreciate the seriousness of the situation.

"Look, Scead, bro, the King Pins not happy, the big man says you're losein' it," he whispered. "Sales from your corner are down and keep on falling, they're calling you a burnout, and since last night there've been rumors goin' 'round about some monster that's feedin' on people, a monster _you_ set loose."

"A burnout?! Fuck them and their…" Scead stopped his outburst and frowned. His thinking was clouded but he was sure Borg had just said, "monster?" Borg nodded and puffed on his joint, relieved to have gotten his friends attention. 

"Yeah, it's what I came to tell you bro, those six guys ya sent out after the kid the other night were just found."

"And," Scead asked, blowing more smoke through his nose and watching it billow around the dingy ceiling like white capped surf.

"They're dead, fucking limbs were torn off, the only damn body I could recognize was Cane and that was only his fucking head. They know you were the one who commissioned the guys for some beating job, people are saying it's your fault, that you're bad luck."

"Shit," Scead whispered. He turned the joint over and over in his fingers, the only thing making it through his foggy thoughts being fury. He crushed the cigarette in his hand and burned his skin before throwing it to the floor. "It's him," he slurred, "it's that damn kid I know it!" 

"You don't know for sure, they could've run across anybody," Borg started, but Scead cut him off.

"No, it was him. That's who I sent 'em after, it was the same god damned brown haired fucker. We'll get him, oh yeah, I want even, I want him to pay in screams! Debts need to be paid; he can't just kill our men and walk! It'll show all 'em 'kingpins' who think I've gone soft and lazy I can still do the job. Burnout? Dream on mother-fuckers, Scead never loses the touch. I want to get the little dipshit!"

"Yo, easy bro, you're wigging out." Borg said, holding up his hands in a piece gesture. Scead paused in his tirade to wipe spittle from his mouth with his sleeve. He took several deep breaths and tried to not grind his teeth.

"Tonight, if you want anything done you've got to do it yourself," he slammed his fist into his palm and grinned. "We'll get him tonight, you know the place he is. We need to give the cocksucker a taste of somethin' he won't forget." Above the two heads bent in whispered schemes, one blurred and eager, one heavy and reluctant, the smoke swirled around the moldy ceiling shaping into deformed pictures of twisted corpses and crying faces.

~~~~~

It was dusk when the two companions turned their feet back, retracing their meandering steps to the orphanage gates. The sun was drooping low in the sky, sending golden rays of light bouncing off the mirrored windows of the city and into crisscrossing patterns around their feet. Wufei listened while his fellow quietly told him the relevant facts that had led to the current situation. He did not pour his heart out, or go into frivolous detail. He softly recounted what was important, and that was all, it was a trait that Wufei had always respected in him. Wufei looked at Odin while they walked, his head tilted slightly as he studied the other pilot. 

There are many different kinds of silence, and not many people who understand them. There is the thick silence of tension, malice, words left unsaid, and words not aloud to be said. There is the gentle silence of camaraderie, drowsiness and words not needed. There are those who use silence as a tool of power and those who wear it like protective suit, slowly choking on their own defensiveness. His comrade had dark, easy silence about him. There was an impression of intensity and complexity beneath his reticence, the sense that there were shaded secrets inside that no one, not even his fellow himself, fully understood. His silence radiated out from him and hushed the babble of the world. This, Wufei realized was what he had been seeking. 

Some part of him remembered this stillness his old fellow carried and he'd sought it out. For just as it hushed peoples chatter to whispers, it quieted his own violent thoughts, the urge to scream and scream and scream, and never stop until he tore his own throat out. A selfish reason yes, especially now, confronted with his comrade's own troubles, any help he could render would be well deserved. Perhaps they both needed the other. They stopped at the gates to the orphanage, and Wufei watched the other pilot stop before the iron bars and look back at him. He knew many things had been left unmentioned, left missing from the tale. His old ally seemed unusually skittish, jumping at shadows, and he'd noticed the other boy avidly avoided any eye contact with reflective surfaces, but Wufei didn't press. If it was a concern he would let him know, until then it would stay buried with the rest of his comrade's secrets.

"You've come at a bad time," his fellow pilot whispered. 

"Or the best time," Wufei answered, the other boy smirked and reached for one of the gate handles. "You've changed your name," Wufei noted. The hand stopped mid motion, an inch from the handle bar and the other boy said,

"I returned to an old one," he shrugged "it's what these people know me by, it's just a sound."

"I will abide by it," Wufei said. The other pilot raised an eyebrow at him over his shoulder, then shook his head,

"Call me what you will, it's just a name." Wufei frowned; names were very important things and should be treated with respect. Names could not be thrown away when you felt you were done with them. 

"As you wish, Heero Yuy," he said. Odin stiffened at the name, but made no comment. He pushed against the iron gate, and blinked when it slid open easily with a squeak. His narrowed eyes twitched about, taking the details he'd failed to notice earlier. The gate had been forced open and was hanging on one upper hinge, swinging back and forth on it's axis with a rusty creaking. The buildings ahead were still and dark. The priest door, set inside the bigger double doors, was open a crack and through the gap wisps of smoke rolled out the entry and down the steps.

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	18. No Gold Tolls

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Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of it's characters or references. 

Notes: **Important Announcement:** Updates from this point on will vary greatly, it may be one week, it may be four or five weeks between them. My apologies, but it will depend on when I have time to work on it. **Anyone who wishes to be notified at an update either e-mail me or review me an e-mail address!** The last chapter?! AAAACK! No, no, no! I couldn't possibly finish this in one chapter, no I'm afraid there are many more chapters to come. Right now I'm just trying to build a sense of how grave the situation is. Speaking of which, you guys are gonna hate me for this, I know you are. (Stargazr hides her head in a bush).

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Chapter Eighteen

No Gold Tolls

The world was as silent and still as a grayscale photograph. The sound of his own breath was loud in his ears and the gate gave a horribly drawn out screech of metal scraping against metal as Odin pushed his way inside the grounds. The short gravel path crunched under his cautiously placed, slinking their way towards the building. He climbed sideways and slightly to the left up the stairs. Reaching the top step Odin put his back to giant door enclosing the smaller one and slid his hand sideways, pushing the little door farther inwards with his fingertips. The smoke pouring out of the building engulfed his legs up to the knee. He lifted his head from the wood at his back and took a quick peek around the doorframe. He looked back at Wufei, who had taken up a similar position on the opposite side of the door, and motioned for face coverings. They pulled off their shirts and tied them as best they could around their mouths and noses to act as filters. The evening was getting colder, Odin shivered in a chill wind that breathed across his bare chest and envied Wufei his extra tank-top. Neither one carried a gun anymore, but Wufei pulled a pocketknife from under his pants leg and held the gleaming blade at the ready. They entered a few paces away from each other, squinting through the haze and turning to watch all the entrances. 

The vapor was not as thick as it seemed from the outside, but the stench was still overwhelming. Their make shift gas masks had little to no effect, and already Odin could feel his limbs beginning to slow. He caught Wufei's eye and pointed to the windows by the front double doors and in the lounge to the left. Wufei nodded and went to the lounge, Odin pried open the tall windows in the entryway and stumbled out the door and down the path. Wufei followed shortly and they collapsed by the gate, pulling their shirts off their faces and gasping for fresh air.

"We can't, "Wufei wheezed, "it's too thick, we'll have to wait until it clears some." Odin nodded and glared at the tall building with darkened windows.

"Sleeping gas," he panted. He squinted leaned forward. There were some curling shapes behind one of the upper story windows, like some untidy scrawl written from the inside, but it was too far up to discern the words. He curled his fingers around his shirt and crushed the material into a smaller and smaller ball, while his face remained blank. Someone had been in _his_ house.

An hour passed before they braved the smoky building again, this time their luck was much improved. The fumes had cleared enough for their shirts to be of some effect and they prowled through the halls and rooms picking up broken pieces of property as they went, like wolves following a sent. A shattered vase here, a splintered door there, smashed plates on the floor, curtains ripped and furniture overturned. Odin grabbed a cracked banister that lay on the floor and held it like a club. It had been a strike force of some kind, they came, they smashed and they vandalized. The writing on the upper story window was no longer a mystery, threatening graffiti had been painted all over the walls, windows, mirrors and anything else that happened to be in the way. In bright red, blue and green they intoned violent warnings, and combinations of letters stamping their territory. The halls were ghostly still. So far there had been no sign of life, the kids were nowhere to be seen and the adults were missing too. The pair's breathing sounded harsh in their ears and the loudest sound was Odin's jeans swish swishing as he crept along.

Wufei tried light switch after light switch, and the best he got was a bulb that fizzled and shot sparks down on their heads before it died. Odin looked about and motioned Wufei to go down. Those responsible were long gone and they would make better time searching for clues and survivors if they split up. Wufei nodded and took the basement, kitchens and boiler room; Odin headed for the upper stories. Somewhere above he could hear music. 

He climbed another flight of stairs, looking up and listening for the fickle melody shifting in and out of static. At the top stair he passed into a long hall, the sounds of the radio came from a door near the far end. The windows along the hall had all been smashed and a cold breeze whistled through the holes, playing the corridor like a bone flute. Odin reached the door with the radio's faltering music and pushed it open with his banister. The room was black as charcoal, and he had to grope his way along, following the fritzing strains of a popular song. The radio was bent in the middle, and lay on the floor with wires spread around it and the casing falling off. Someone had given it a good smash and in another second and the tune sputtered out, dead. Odin turned then, ready to leave, and came to a skidding halt. There on the wall, revealed in all its gruesome glory by the dim glow of the hall, was a message written in blood.

"Toll paid in half," the gory note read. Odin stood transfixed, watching with horrified awe as the letters leaked their juicy red ink in dribbles down the wall. The omnipresent hum of his mind slowed and sputtered to a halt like an engine out of gas. His last thought before it died completely was, where'd they gotten the blood? A familiar cold returned to his gut and he felt his insides freeze and harden. Effectively numbed from head to foot, he searched around for a flashlight. He found one under an overturned drawer, flicked it on, and swept the circle of light along the walls with an unsteady hand. The blood didn't end with one message, all four walls were covered with it, pictures of skulls with x'ed out eyes, hands paying coins and promises of retribution. Odin flicked off the flashlight and walked out the door, closing it behind him with a soft click. The cold froze solid the fear that trickled in, and gave it a tactical voice; where were the children? 

Odin was standing, motionless and staring beyond the broken windows when Wufei came up beside him. He felt a tap on the shoulder and turned to acknowledge the Chinese pilot. He did not realize that he was pale as bleached cotton or that his eyes were wide and sightless. He blinked dully at Wufei, trying to kick-start his brain into running again. Wufei got the hint, took the flashlight from Odin's hand and walked into the room. He came back out with an equally haunted and closed off expression and stood beside Odin, staring at the black sky. There was no more gas up here, if there ever had been any it all flowed out the broken windows. Wufei pulled his shirt away from his mouth and said,

"I've found them." Odin snapped his head round to his companion and motioned for him to lead the way. Wufei fixed his shirt back over his mouth and guided them down the staircases, past the kitchens and into the basement. The orphanage basement was abnormally large and spanned half the floor space of the entire largest building. The ceiling stretched out over head and faded into darkness. Wufei flicked on the flashlight and ran it over the piles of gently breathing bodies. All the children had been trussed up and bound like pigs for the slaughter. Most were sleeping lightly, some were snoring and a few had begun to rouse themselves. Odin marched forward and together with Wufei began heaving the bodies out of the little hills they'd made and spreading them out on the floor. As suspected the thugs who'd thrown them down here hadn't cared about the order they landed in and many of the smaller children were suffocating under bigger and heavier bodies, the two got to work at once. 

Odin found Caltha easily and laid her out with extra care. Wufei was working a pile to the far right, currently doing CPR on one of the smaller kids. He breathed into her mouth and pumped her chest with quick deft motions, in the hurried professional pace of one who'd done it a thousand times. Odin watched for a moment, then turned and heaved a body from his own pile with a grunt, he had his own lives to save. The huge bulk made a loud groan that echoed through the cavernous cellar as it landed on the floor. Odin paused and shone the flashlight in the body's face; it was Ethan. Odin rolled him over on his back and helped him sit up. Ethan blinked at him, weary eyed from the effects of the gas but growing more alert by the minute. Odin returned to spreading out the sleeping bodies and when he could stand Ethan helped. They worked in silence, their helpers growing in number as more kids awoke. 

Some of the younger children were starting to wail with fright: 'where were they,' 'what had happened,' 'where did the scary men go,' and ' what happened to Anna?' There were even a few demands for the bathroom, though one boy decided it wasn't worth the trip upstairs and peed his pants. Ethan had collected a small flock and he along with a few other girls and boys tried to keep the babies together and reassure them. Odin was grateful, he had neither the finesse nor the patience for keeping them quiet and out of the way, and he was growing more troubled with each piping voice. The children were right, there was no Anna, nor any of the adults. They pulled all the kids out of the piles and there wasn't an adult to be found. 

None of the children were injured beyond a few cuts and bruises. Ethan sported a black eye, Neon was favoring his limp leg more then usual and jinx had a busted lip, but nothing serious. Half the kids were now awake and looking for direction, or some authority figure. Odin took Ethan, Jinx, Neon and a few others aside to report on the condition of the upstairs, and the room with the bloody message. Ethan agreed to keep all the kids down here or on ground level at least. Wufei fired off a few questions about who attacked them and how they got in. Jinx's answers confirmed their first guesses, thugs, wearing gloves and rubber monster masks that covered their heads. They smashed their way in with pointed guns and crowbars. One of the older girls was rocking a three year old in her arms who was close to passing out again from hyperventilating, and trying her best to convince her circle of tiny listeners that it had not been real boogie men or monsters that assaulted them.

Odin and Wufei led Jinx and one or two others up to the kitchens for water. One girl tried to call the police several times and punched the screen with a shout when she got no results. Wufei ordered her to calm down, the power had been cut, run to the public vid-phone down the street and call them from there. 

Odin was rummaging through the cupboards looking for bandages and first aid kits. He slammed a pantry door shut and the others flinched when it banged off the frame. Some hissed at him to be quite, others glared, there was such a hush over the place that no one dared disturb it. Odin looked to his right and stopped. Caltha had left the basement and followed him upstairs on her own and now she stood at the kitchens glass slider looking at something on the stone walk outside. Odin's brow creased and he left the others to their search, coming up behind her to see what she'd found. A black puddle was spreading bit by bit along the grooves between the flagstones and in the light of moving flashlights it had red depths. Odin and Caltha watched, mesmerized by the ripples made with each new drip into the inky pool. The drops fell from overhead, and as one the two looked at each other and then up beyond the door frame. His head still tilted upward Odin slid the glass door open and stepped around the puddle. Caltha stayed behind the doorframe sucking on her thumb and watching Odin with worried eyes, she _knew_ something was wrong with that puddle. 

Odin walked backward from the open slider his nose pointed at the sky. His coping skills struggling keep up with his mounting dread. Fright poured through him fuller and faster then it could be frozen. His pace slowed with each laborious step that revealed more of the horrendous scene, until he couldn't lift his feet at all, he was riveted in horror to the ground. His legs were so heavy and still that they felt implanted in the earth, like the base of a mountain. In that single moment, when he took his first sight of them, time lasted forever. Millennia passed within his mind and he took a breath once in a hundred years.

Every adult on orphanage grounds was hung from the eaves of the house, stripped and naked as newborns. Each man and woman dangled from a beam at the end of a rope. Starting from the far left all the way to the right the bodies made a line of homemade gallows. The house creaked from the dead weights it carried and the bodies, stiffened in rigormortis, hung like boards. Their necks were snapped and the heads rested at odd angles against the ropes, some slightly forward some to the side depending on where the rope was knotted. Green light from a nearby sign illuminated the corpses and gave their skin a sickly look, as well as emphasizing every bruise and scratch and blood clot. 

It was a ghastly sight for anyone to behold, yet it was all the worse for Odin because every expression caught in sudden death, expressions he'd seen many times through his short, brutal life, expressions he knew as well as multiplication tables, he now saw hardened on faces he knew. There was the man who had passed out mail on Christmas, the woman who couldn't make anything but peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches, and there…was… Anna. His joints gave out and he fell to the ground on his knees, leaning back on his heels while his eyes traveled up, up and up.

Up from her bare feet, up her calves and up the blood that ran down from behind her knees to puddle by the kitchen. Now he knew where they'd gotten the blood. He felt disgusted at himself for staring at her the way she was yet he couldn't force his eyes away. Up her thighs, pelvis, stomach and breasts to the throat and face. The noose had slipped up her neck and was pulled tight under her chin. The pale green light from the sign darkened all her wounds and made her body look half-rotted. Nothing on her remained untouched and unbruised except for her hair, her bright red mane of hair that drifted about her face and tangled in every wind. Her eyes were open, staring out at some point beyond the horizon and the look in her face was in no way peaceful. She died thinking of her kids, Of Odin and Ethan and Neon and Jinx and Caltha, of what her attackers had done to her and them, of what she thought they deserved and how they should get it, she died thinking of revenge. 

Odin couldn't move, couldn't feel his body working, everything had stopped. There was no sound, no feel, no action, no rhythm. His eyes were dry from staring at Anna's angry, bloody face. Even in death she was so full of energy that it didn't surprise him when the head of her corpse lifted from it's snapped position and looked down at him. Her face struggled through the stiffness to open its mouth and her voice was hollow and wooden as it spoke, 

"What are you doing moping around down there and feeling sorry for yourself? Get up and do something about it." Fear pooled in Odin's heart as she stared into him with fogged, unreflective eyes and all the other bodies slowly lifted their heads to stare at him as well. Odin shivered, blinked, and the scene returned to normal. He lowered his head from the dead hanging above him and felt molten rage begin to leak and pool among the fear. The two mingled and together made a hot, potent mixture that spread through his limbs and his face. His mouth twitched and widened into a long grin. His eyes grew wild. All of his vision was red and his ears went deaf. Odin leaned on his heals and rose to his feet, his tongue darting out to lick his teeth in expectation of the blood he would taste tonight. 

Wufei and the other kids had stopped what they were doing and gathered about the slider door when Odin stepped outside. They had watched him fall to his knees and slowly change from horror to grief to the thing that stood before them now, this crazed, pained, blinded thing. Wufei looked back at everyone behind him, all in various stages of confusion and fear and said,

"Run." 

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